Everything I Need Is Here
by innocent.like.roller.coasters
Summary: Gerard is an average 17 year old whose life is slowly coming to a standstill. Frank is an optimistic 14 year old, looking to finally find himself somewhere to belong. Their lives intertwine as if fate herself destined it to be. From both points of view.
1. Mousey Frank & Dark Blue Gerard

Well, Frank, so much for 'A new start in a new town! This time will be the one. The one where you'll finally come out to your parents and your dad approves! And you'll let everyone at school know you're gay and you'll meet up with people and you'll have a beautiful boyfriend!' Certainly, the best way to approach this was to sit in the corner of a LGBT meeting playing an air-guitar. Smooth moves Frankie!

So, it was March and this was the second time we had moved this year. My dad's job was- well to be entirely honest I'm not even sure of what my dad _actually_ works as, but he has to move towns frequently because of it, leaving my mother and I to trail behind him with our meagre possessions. I'm not sure why but this time felt different. Like, this time the only thing I felt a serious desire to bring with me was Pansy, my guitar. Maybe I would find everything I needed in this town.

Oh look, Mr Iero's gone to American-Movie world again! Please excuse him while he plays an air-guitar in an attempt to leave American-Movie world, forever.

The door slowly swung open and guy with Jet Black hair and deep hazel eyes walked in apprehensively. I could tell by the sceptical raise of his eyebrow that he was not best impressed with the rainbow that adorned the doorway. I'm not going to lie, I did check him out. I mean, god he was hot! He was wearing a plain white T shirt that clung to his body in all the right places, and that was topped with a black leather jacket. Some fibres were beginning to stray and the ends of the sleeves were torn but that just added to his overall appeal. His pants were faded black skinnies held up with a shocking blue belt and he wore a pair of old grey converse high tops to complete the look.

I think saying 'He was the single closest thing I have ever seen to perfection' was a bit of an understatement.

He began to survey the room and I took this as my cue to stop drooling over him and actually try and make myself look vaguely interesting. I looked down and quickly resumed my playing of the air-guitar, continuing with the song I had been attempting earlier. I didn't even remember what song I was performing, my thoughts were too clouded with my mysterious stranger and wondering if he liked dogs or if he played an instrument or if he was gay or bisexual or if he ever had any plans for settling down and marrying-

"Hey!" I stole a glance upwards and saw that my stranger had just got his personal space invaded by the hyper-active one sporting the nametag 'Brendon'. I snickered. If there was ever a voice that could snap someone out of their lust-induced fantasies, it was definitely his.

"..Hey."

I think my insides just melted. That voice. _His _voice...oh dear lord. It was low and harsh, and I couldn't work out whether the hint of venom injected into his voice was intentional or not. I was turning into an 11 year old, internally squealing at every aspect of him! Jesus, get a grip Frank.

I managed to compose myself just enough time to hear him say "My favourite colour." As he wrote his name down using a dark blue felt tip pen. Okay, dark blue was his favourite colour. What was blue's complimentary colour? Ah, orange. If he asked me what my favourite colour was I could say "orange" then once he had told me his favourite colour, I could 'casually' comment that they were complimentary colours. Then he would think I was really funny and clever and that would lead him on the path to falling head-over-heads in love with me.

Or, something like that.

Well, mysterious stranger was certainly on a path- He was making a bee-line straight for me.

Shit.

Oh no.

Oh god.

I am going to mess this up to the point of no return, and then my future husband _He_ will hate me forever.

Now is the time when I wish spontaneous human combustion was more common.

He silently sat down next to me, and I shuffled to accommodate him. I'm not sure why I shuffled because I was sat on the floor and there was space all around me, threatening to swallow me due to my abysmal handling of situations involving a potential partner: But I shuffled anyway. I turned to look at his name tag and saw him staring intently at my chest. Maybe he was Bi? Maybe he was straight and was only trying to experiment then he realised that he was definitely straight and this was pointless so he was staring at my chest wishing that I was a girl and that I had tits-

SHUT UP, PARANOID PART OF FRANK IERO'S BRAIN.

My eyes focused on his nametag while I tried to calm myself down from my neurotic stupor. The dark Blue writing read "Gerard." And was accompanied by a Nirvana Esq.- Smiley Face. At least he liked decent music.

Gerard.

Gerard who liked Nirvana and dark blue.

I instantly decided I liked the name Gerard. It was unusual, sort of like him, really. And it sounded like a really fun thing to say. Gerard. Gerard. Gerard. I even liked saying it internally!

"So..Erm, Frank." Gerard's voice was significantly softer now. Brandon must have caught him off guard. "You play guitar?"

I shot him a suspicious look. How did he know that I played guitar? How did he know my name was frank?

Then I realised that I was wearing a nametag and that was probably what he was looking at before, not wishing that I was female. My self confidence was slightly restored, and I accidentally let out a relived sigh.

"How did you know I play guitar?" I asked, slightly bemused. My voice sounded all chirpy and baby-ish compared to his, and with the unintentional accusatory tone I sounded even more like a whining, fangirling 11 year old.

I didn't mean to be an asshole, I just kinda...get like this around people I seriously like.

"Well, er, I, I saw you... Fingering before." Gerard's cheeks blushed an unearthly shade of beetroot as he started intently at the floor.

I sniggered, adding 'immaturity' to my traits shared with annoying tweens. Gerard began to laugh too, a high pitched laugh that was infectious.

Agh, Go for it Frankie.

I turned to look at him and gave him what I hoped was the nicest smile he had seen for a while. My grin was usually reserved for family and close friends, but I liked Gerard. I really, really liked Gerard.

He returned the favour and shot me a smile back. It was reserved, pulling the corners of his mouth up and making him look both devilishly handsome and devilishly mischievous. My stomach began somersaulting and I felt a squeal of delight build up in my throat before I managed to regain composure.

"So, reckon you'll be here next week?" Gerard asked, _That_ smile still splayed across his lips.

"Probably.." I attempted to reply 'Coolly'

Of course. Of course I'll be here next week. But only if you are.

My interpretation of 'playing it cool' was about as cool as an ice cream stand in the middle of the Sahara Desert.

"...cool." okay, this conversation was going nowhere except a one way ticket to 'overuse of the word 'cool' road.' Quick Frank, think!

"What is your talent?" I don't think I could have said that more robot-like if I tried. Oh well! A new topic of conversation had been opened which meant I got to listen to Gerard's voice more.

"Well, I've never had a particular talent like playing the guitar...I mean, I guess I can sing..OH!' His face lit up "I'll show you!"

"Yay!" I let out a sound of genuine excitement. Oops! If I pretend I haven't noticed the rest of the group staring at us due to my outburst, maybe they'll stop and turn back around.

"Do you have any paper?" He asked as he pulled a pencil out of his pocket.

"Umm..." I mumbled as I searched my pockets. "Here! Maths homework." I said as I pulled the scruffy piece of paper from out of my back pocket.

He let out a small chuckle before demanding "Turn."

I obliged instantly. I was totally okay with being ordered around by Gerard. Completely and utterly fine with it.

"So, How old are you anyway?"

"I'm fourteen. Almost fifteen" Inverted sigh. It sounded so young, so measly when I voiced my age. I bet Gerard's fifteen or even sixteen! "You?"

There were a couple moments of hesitation before Gerard managed to mumble "uh, I'm seventeen..."

Well, hasn't this just taken a turn for the awkward.

"Aren't you a little too old to be here?" Personally I didn't care if he was 17 or 92, but it felt like I should at least pretend to show some resignation.

The seconds dragged by.

"Well, I don't act my age I suppose."

Cliché. Cliché, but incredibly cute.

"Done!" he exclaimed happily. I guessed part of the happiness was due to the fact we now had something to talk about, instead of sitting here wallowing in awkwardness.

He handed me the picture. It was beautiful! It was a boy, around late teens I would guess? With dark brown hair and hazel eyes that almost rivalled Gerard's. He had a lip ring and looked very content, smirking at something unknown. I supposed he had asked me to turn because he didn't want me to see the drawing process. That was cute! My affection for Gerard was increasing by the second and I had no problems with this.

"But who is it?" I seriously wanted to know who this attractive boy was. Maybe if things didn't work out with Gerard...

"Er...It's you" he studied my face for a reaction

It clicked in my head that I had been asked to turn to the side because he needed to study my profile, not because he was self conscious and I wasn't allowed to see the drawing's development. It also clicked that I had subconsciously decided to pursue a relationship with myself if nothing ended up happening between me and Gerard. That was just way, WAY too weird.

Well, his picture certainly gained a reaction. My mouth dropped open. I looked from Gerard to the picture to Gerard to the picture, all rather melodramatically. Once I was coherent of speech again, I managed to wail "But I'm not nearly as beautiful!"

"...you kinda are" he gave me a genuine smile and casually brushed his hand against my arm.

Woah.

WOAH.

Electric shocks.

The hairs on the back of my neck are standing up so tall they could probably reach the clouds.

I am so very close to squealing like a kid-

"HEY! HEY EVERYONE! CIRCLE TIME!"

Bless Brendon and his lust-induced fantasy killing voice.

Everyone grabbed a chair from the outskirts of the room and assembled them in a rough circle. I looked round at the people surrounding me. There was: Brendon, Kitty, Lindsey, Alex, Jack, Jimmy, Pete, Tay, Patrick and obviously my Gerard.

Erm, wow... I mean, there was also Gerard.

"Okay Guys! We in this game we have to say one thing we like about ourselves, and then one thing we like about ONE other person in the room. Okay, got it? You first Lindsey." Brendon gestured to the black haired girl, who looked around slightly nervously. She seemed sweet enough. Probably be an awesome friend.

"Well, I like...my hair...and I like...I like how friendly Kitty was to me when I arrived, even though she didn't know me. Also, Girl drummers are kind of...Sexy." a flirty smiled played across her lips as she uttered the last word, and her eyes were practically sparkling with lust as she looked at Kitty

Okay, scratch that. I don't think she's sweet if she's got the guts to say and act like that after not even knowing said person for an hour. I liked her, and I added befriending her onto a 'to-do list' that resided in my head.

As each person said their respective compliments, it got closer and closer to my turn. I can do this, I can do this, of course I can. But of course, my sweaty palms and dry throat beg to differ.

"And you, Frank?" Brendon chirped.

I cleared my throat, in hopes that my voice wouldn't break spectacularly when I began to speak.

"Uh, I like...I like that even though I'm not generally a persevering person, I had the patience to pick up an instrument- A guitar-and teach myself how to play." I grinned, thinking back to all the times I almost smashed Pansy against a wall because I couldn't perfect a certain riff. " And, I like, Gerard-" I deliberately cut my sentence short to make eye contact and smirk playfully at him. "That you can draw anyone and make them look ridiculously attractive."

He smiled coyly before looking down in an attempt to hide his cheeks that were quickly turning red again.

"Ooh, I need to see this skill sometime!" Brendon exclaimed as he clasped his hands together. "Now Gerard, Your go!"

"Uh yeah! M-My T-T-Turn now I suppose..." He began to stutter. That glowing red wasn't going to leave his cheeks any time soon. " I like about myself... I like...I like the similarities I share with my brother. He's the kindest boy I've ever met. And, Uh... I LIKE FRANK! I like your face, but don't worry, it's nothing like mouse-Frank's face because he was all hairy and he had massive ears because he was a mouse and it would be stupid if a mouse didn't look like that because then it probably wouldn't be a mouse and-"

He continued to trip over word after word, Mumbling and stuttering all over the place until he decided that he should shut up. Looking round the circle anxiously, he was met with looks of confusion, slight disgust and pity: Until he locked eyes with me.

Or at least he tried to lock eyes with me, since I guess the tears of laughter were getting in the way. I had to hold myself down on the chair in order to stop me from falling off and physically roll across the floor laughing. As you could tell by the reactions of the others, most people would have instantly decided Gerard was a bumbling fool who they shouldn't have any contact with unless necessary: but not me. His little outburst was positively adorable, and had only strengthened my affinity towards him.

Brendon takes one look at the both of us and begins to chuckle too.

"So, after that unusual description I think we'll start to clear the chairs away!"

Everyone returned their chairs to the outskirts of the room, still trying to comprehend what had actually just happened while they stacked them up.

"I hope you guys enjoyed this! See you all next week!" Brendon called out happily. It was easy to see that being camp came naturally to him.

People filtered out until eventually it was just me and Gerard stood at opposite ends of the room. I so badly wanted to run and leap into his arms, hold him tight and press my lips against his, and just stay like that forever.

But I settled with a meek and awkward "uh, ha, bye. Maybe see you next week?" As much as I tried to suppress it, there were nervous vibes practically dripping from my words.

"Bye." Was the abrupt answer I received. I looked into his eves and couldn't help noticing there was a sort of spark in his eyes, like a burning desire for something.

Or maybe for someone.

He follows up with a demure wave and a "See you next week!"

I nod a little too eagerly and hurry silently out of the room, still wishing I could stay with Gerard.

"I'll never forget this day." I swear to myself as I leave " As for me, it feels like a new beginning."

Author's Note: Okay, so this is Robyn and Lilly, just here to let you know about the format. Basically, each chapter is told from both Gerard's and Frank's point of view, with Frank's first and then Gerard's. Okay?

Hope you enjoy the story!

*HUGS AND KISSES*


	2. Dark Blue Gerard & Mousey Frank

A shudder goes down my spine as I stroll my way along the side-walk.

Everyone knows I am bisexual, and I've yet to meet someone _worth knowing_ with a problem with me or the way I was born (I mean, jeez, I _was_ born this way for god's sake), but still, here I was, forced to segregate myself into an evening group specially for kids who were born with an attraction to the same sex, or with an attraction to both sexes, and had recently discovered or outed their feelings.

You could tell where it was by the massive rainbow on the door. _Pfft, but don't I love rainbows..._

As I enter I note that there is no specific organisation to the place, aside from the fact that everyone wears a name-tag on their front. From here I could see Brendon, Pete, Lindsey, Kitty, Jimmy, Tay, Patrick and a relatively young couple named Jack and Alex.

Oh, and there is a stranger, name-tagless (as far as I could see) sitting sombrely in the corner. That kid catches my eye. He's totally lost in his thoughts and from the way his fingers are moving, I can gather that, in his head, he's rockin' out on his guitar.

He's my kind of guy. If I could just introduce myself without scaring him, then we could -

A face (thankfully with a body attached to it) popping up from seemingly no-where in front of me startled me out of my thoughts.

"Hey!" says the guy name-tagged Brendon.

"...Hey." I say in a harsh, low tone.

"Woah, okay. I just wanted to make you welcome, dude!" he chirps.

I have to smile at his enthusiasm.

"Well, hey there. Nice to meet you, Brendon, I'm..."

"Name-tagless? Or shall I just call you 'Jacket'?" he jokes.

"Er..." I mumble, trying to think of which I preferred 'least', people knowing my name and wanting to socialize or being called 'Jacket' for the rest of the sessions.

Before I can fully reply, Brendon pulls a sticky label from a roll of (waaaaaay too many) other sticky labels.

"Here!" he beams, passing me a dark blue pen and the label.

"My favourite colour." I reply finally, but he was already gone, skipping across the room to socialize with the sociables.

In my best handwriting, I quickly scribble a "Gerard" onto the label before drawing a smiley face with crosses for eyes. (Thank you, Nirvana, my smiley faces may never look normal again.)

I stick the label to my jacket and vowe to go and greet Mr Sombre sitting in the corner.

This place is so god-dammed small that it feels like everyone is staring at me as I cross the room.

"Hey!" I cheer, attempting to look the solemn stranger in the eye (which was difficult as a) he's sitting down and b) he's pretty short).

"Get lost." he says sharply without even looking up.

I feel a little hurt. But I won't give up.

"Hey, c'mon, I don't bite..." I plead.

He looks up with a stare that could kill a kitten.

Scratch that, this look could kill 'several kittens'.

"Fine." he says harshly. "Sit down."

You see, he's acting so cruel but I can't, for some reason, ever imagine that this is his regular behavior. Maybe...? No. No, Gerard, you're not thinking straight. Of course he doesn't. He's not intimidated by your immense (_non-__existent_) good looks and he DEFINITELY, DEFINITELY doesn't fancy you.

I sit carefully down on the cold floor beside him and as I do so he shuffles to accommodate me. (What a cute shuffle!) As he shuffled (cutely), the thin green fabric of his shirt ruffled to reveal a nametag on his chest reading "Frank". I love the name Frank, and the main reason for that is because my brother and I had kept a wild mouse with the same name when we were very young. We'd found it outside and convinced mom to let us keep it safe from the harsh New Jersey streets- she'd warned us about the agression of wild animals many times- but this was an unbelievably timid, kindly mouse that went on to live for many years before dying peacefully after a feast on christmas day. My reminiscing is brought to an abrupt stop by the unbearably awkward silence that threatened to ruin any possible chance I had with Frank.

Hoplelessly, I search my not-so large brain for something witty and/or interesting to say.

"Er...So... Frank...You play guitar?"

He shoots me a suspicious glance through his long, dark-brown fringe.

"How did you know that?"

"Well, I, er, I saw you... I saw you fingering before.."

He sniggers

I blush, but begin to laugh at his dirty mind.

Suddenly, he turns to look me straight in the eyes.

AND HE SMILES.

I hate to sound cheesy, but...It was the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen.

I self-consciously return the smile, being careful not to show too much of my hideous (or so I think anyway, Mom says they're _beautiful_) crooked teeth for fear they might scare him off and he might scamper away from me like mouse-Frank used to do when he was scared.

"So... Are you coming here next week?"

"Probably."

"... Cool."

The conversation, as dry as it had first started out, was getting even drier.

"What is _your_ talent?" he asks timidly.

"Well, er... I've never had a particular talent like playing the guitar.. I mean, I can sing, but... OH! I'll show you!"

"Yay!" he sounds excited.

I shiver internally in anxiety - I've never really done this on a whim before, and he might think I'm some sort of creep, but...

"Er, do you have any paper?" I ask as I pull my short, yellow pencil out of my pocket.

"Um... Here, take this." he says, passing me a scruffy piece of paper. "Maths homework."

"Hah." I chuckle, and I begin to draw.

"Turn." I demand, careful not to come across as a complete and utter controlling megalomaniac.

He complies. I study the perfect features of his ageless face. From his large, dark-greeny eyes to his perfectly rounded lips that wouldn't go amiss on a young lady.

"So," I start, "How old are you, anyway?"

"I'm fourteen, almost fifteen."

Oh crap. Am I too old for him?

"You?"

"Er... I'm seventeen."

"... Aren't you a little old to be here, then?"

I cringe. I wasn't exactly going to step out and say "Oh, gorgeous boy of my dreams, it's because I have issues with depression and self-confidence, but it's okay, I'm happy sometimes!" was I?

Quick! Make something up!

"Well, I don't act my age, I suppose..."

Wow, that excuse was lame... (but actually kind-of true...)

"Done."

I pass him my drawing. I'd tried to make the likeness of the profile as like him as I could. I feel quite proud of my attempt, although, obviously, it can never be nearly as lovely as his actual face (ooh, put the cow away, I'm making too much cheese!).

"Wow."

Yes! The reaction I was after.

"But who is it?"

Shit.

"Er, it's you..." I reveal tentatively.

"But... I'm not nearly as beautiful..." He wails pitifully.

"You kinda are." I smile, casually touching his arm. (look, I'd read in a magazine that that was the thing to do if you fancied someone. And I _definitely_ fancy Frank.)

He giggles as I touch him. Woah, that giggle... It's so cheeky, yet, argh, so full of ironic innocence.

I can't help but laugh at that giggle.

Before I can further the conversation Brendon, again, pops up out of nowhere.

"Circle time!" He cheers.

I groan inwardly.

I _hate_ socializing.

I join the rest of the group never-the-less as they drag flimsy plastic chairs into the centre of the room to form a circle.

"Right," starts Brendon once we had all sat down, "I want you all to compliment one person in this room and I also want you to mention one good thing about yourself, okay?"

The group simulatneously nods.

"Let's start with you, Lindsey."

"Well," begins a stunningly pretty black-haired girl who I would, if I didn't presently have my eyes on someone else, gladly take out for dinner. "I like... My hair... and I like... I like how friendly Kitty was to me when I arrived, even though she didn't know me. Also, girl drummers are kind of... Sexy." she blushes.

I zone out as the chirpy teenagers begin to compliment one another with gay abandon. Most comments are essentially the same - " So-and-so said 'hi' when I walked in.."; "So-and-so made me feel welcome";"So-and-so smiled at me and from that I inferred that he/she may want to someday have lots of sex and/or adopted babies with me..."

I sigh quietly. I really am warming to this place. Aside from the fact that everyone wanted to be friends with everyone, the colours are a little too bright for me and I have an impending sense of embarrassment around 'him', I am, actually, enjoying myself.

Bringing myself back to reality, I realise that there are only two more people left to speak: Frank and myself.

Brendon turns to Frank and waits anxiously for him to speak.

"Uh, I like... I like that I'm not a persevering person in the least yet I had the patience to pick up an instrument - uh, the guitar - and learn it." With that, he grins, "And, I like, Gerard -" he looks straight at me "- that you can draw anyone and make them look ridiculously attractive."

I blush, but I don't agree with him. It isn't _just_ my drawing that had makes him look ridiculously attractive - he naturally looks that way. His parents and his genes deserve some credit, right?

"Gerard, it's your turn."

"Uh! Yes! My-my t-turn." I say, stuttering in embarrassment. It wasn't everyday (heck, it wasn't even every year) that I spoke in front of a group of people that weren't my relatives. " I like about myself... I like... I like the similarities I share with my brother. He's the kindest boy I've ever met. And... Ah... I like... Frank! I like your face, but don't worry, it's nothing like mouse-Frank's face because he was all hairy and he had massive ears because, well, ah, he was a mouse!"

The words I reeled out quickly, after saying Frank's name, had all jumbled into one massive word that I can imagine a few people struggled to understand. All but one person in the room find my compliment to Frank too weird to be funny. That one person was Frank - and he is laughing his (very nice, but not hairy) face off at this precise moment.

Slowly, Frank's avid laughter dies down and the group begin to clear the chairs away. Stacking mine first, I leave pleanty of time to lean casually against the wall and observe the other members. I find myself unintentionally staring at Frank and smiling. I glance at my watch.

19:00 - the ending time of the club's activities.

"Okay guys, you can start heading home now, thanks for coming and I'll see you next week!" exclaims Brendon, obviously pleased with himself that it'd gone well.

People had begun to leave, but I set my heart on staying back to say goodbye to Frank. I couldn't go without doing so. I catch his eye from across the room and he timidly walks towards me.

"Uh, ha, bye." He says nervously.

"Bye." I say glumly, looking down at him and realising how much I wanted to wrap my arms around him and clutch him to me. Cringing, I resist the urge to do just that, and settle with a wave good-bye. "See you next time!"

Nodding, he leaves quickly and quietly.

I thank Brendon for the fun I've had and he waves his perfectly formed fingers at me as a goodbye.

'I'll never forget this day,' I swear to myself as I leave, ' As for me, it feels like a new beginning.'


	3. Curious Incidents of Dogs and Condoms

CHAPTER 2

"Meadowscale High welcomes you!"Read the half-dismantled ancient sign about the school's front doors. The rest of the building's exterior kept up with appearances, contributing with graffiti laden walls and cracked paint along the windowsills and door frames. Each pane of glass was fitted with an iron mesh layer, which although I knew was to protect the windows from basketballs and such like, didn't exactly reassure me. The school itself was huge, and slightly daunting. It was the biggest school had been to by far, but was also the worst kept.

Well, isn't this going to be absolutely joyous!

Crowds of people slowly filed into the school to get to their respective lessons. I followed behind. Being completely honest, I was quite looking forward to today. I enjoyed moving school, as tedious as it was, most of the time. I always usually made new friends and each move gave me a chance to re-invent myself. With some luck, the pupils wouldn't be as crappy as the school's exterior.

Hopefully I would find myself here.

Hopefully I would find Gerard here too.

After going to the front office and receiving my timetable, I learnt that today's lessons were Maths, English, History and French. Pretty good start to this school I think!

I had also been given an incredibly intricate map of the school which I was trying to unsuccessfully decipher. All the corridors entwined with one another and I had walked into more than one store cupboard thinking it was the maths room. Eventually, I stopped and put the map on the floor, and traced the route with my finger. Once I was pretty sure of the directions I looked up to make sure I was going the right way. The corridor was empty, and it looked correct, so I hurriedly grabbed the map and set off, with my face buried in the paper.

Suddenly I collided with an all mighty 'thud' into a wall that had not been there seconds before, and fell to the ground. I looked up, dazed, to find that the invisible wall was actually a very visible boy.

"Here." He thrust his hand into my face. "Sorry about that." I took the hand and he pulled me up, looking down at me slightly due to height differences.

Damn you, non-existent tall Genes.

"Oh god no, don't apologize, that was completely my fault!" I managed to choke out, still slightly winded from the impact of running straight into him. I looked up at his face to get a better look at this unusually friendly stranger.

I suppose he was what one would class as a 'Jock'. He has short brown crew-cut hair that had tramlines shaved into the right side. His eyes were emerald green and matched the small stud he was wearing in his right ear. His smile was friendly enough, and his teeth were more flawless than a model's own set. 'Nike' or 'Adidas' adorned most of his clothes which I didn't think much of, except for his shoes which were plain black vans. He was attractive but recently no one was even earning a double take from me, not after _him_.

"Shaun. Shaun Simons." He shot me the Hollywood smile. "I'm guessing you're new here? Not seen you around the corridors before."

"Oh, uh, yeah. I'm frank. Frank Iero. Just moved here from New Jersey." I replied after picking my bag and the map up from the floor. He gestured towards the map."Lost?" He chuckled. "What class you looking for?"

"Yeah. Fuck man, this school is huge and this map is shitty. You guys should have signposts or something! I'm trying to find the maths room, Mr Flynn?"

"That's the class I'm in! Shaun exclaimed, surprised. "Or at least the class I'm supposed to be in right now." He smirked. "Figured I'd go smoke somewhere for a while, Mr Flynn isn't exactly the most exciting person ever. I'll take you there now."

There was no way this guy was in my class, he looked at least 2 years older than me.

"Erm..." I began "You seem...Aren't you, Like, too old to be in my class or something?"

Another laugh. Jesus, this guy was easily amused.

"I'm actually 17...my friends are too. We don't exactly spend our time studying if you catch my drift...We got set back a couple of years. We have more important, social things to do like parties, drinks...Girls..." A knowing chuckle.

"Oh right, makes sense I suppose." I faked a smile and a short laugh.

Oh look, I found a new way to spell 'Stereotypical'.

S-H-A-U-N-S-I-M-O-N-S.

We walked to maths, and Shaun talked about his friends, Neil, John and Tim. They all sounded rather 'Frat Boy' for my liking, not that I voiced my opinions. I was too surprised that I had made friends this quickly, especially with who seemed to be the leader of the Jocks, especially considering the clique I usually fell into. The Metal Heads, and if the school was particularly obnoxious, the 'Emos'.

Mr. Flynn was not best impressed when Shaun walked through the door, but his expression softened when I entered. His reaction to 'Look who I found lost in the corridors, new boy Frankie!" was only to empathise with me about the size and complexity of the school. He sat me in the spare seat next to Shaun, and once I had sat down I scanned the room,deciding if I deemed anyone worthy to befriend. After ending my search and mentally singling out a couple people, I got a faint but distinct sinking feeling in my chest. I looked out across the sea of people again, the sea of redheads and blondes and brunettes and-

Then I realised what I was subconsciously searching for.

There's no Jet Black hair.

There's no Gerard.

Shaun was in my English class too, so he walked me there. A tall-ish boy with long brown hair and gleaming silver braces was stood outside the classroom door, looking fed up and slightly angry.

"Tim!" Shaun shouted to the boy. "What's up with your face, huh?" The boy turned round and rolled his eyes.

"Guess whose phone got confiscated by moody bitch Mooerdir?" Tim huffed as Shaun began to laugh excessively.

Once Shaun's laughter had died down he turned to me "Mrs. Mooerdir is the biology teacher, and possibly the moodiest, strictest, and most horrible teacher you'll ever have."

"Erm..." Tim began apprehensively. "Who's this? Not exactly your choice of friend Shaun. Looks like he would be more at home with the Genderslut."

Now, I know it's unreasonable to think that _EVERYONE_ is just going to instantaneously attach themselves to me like Shaun had: But what was this guy's problem? I hadn't even spoken to him yet by the way he was looking at me, I could tell he'd taken a very strong dislike to me. Also, who was this "Genderslut"? And what qualities did I share with this unknown?

"Jesus Tim! This is Frank Iero, he's actually pretty damn sound, but you would have already known that if you'd talked to him instead of shouting at me!" Shaun cried, exasperated.

"Well, all I'm saying is that it seems a bit hypocritical to constantly tease the bisexual, then make friends with someone who could pass for his emo little brother!" Tim countered.

Ouch...this guy had pretty strong opinions of his acquaintances. My outfit which was a plain black T-shirt, dark skinny jeans, ankle boots and a beanie wasn't even what I'd class as emo! I mean, I had my Black Flag hoodie in my bag, but that's as far as my clothes ventured into the 'Alternative'.

"Bullshit!" Shaun Said angrily. "Tim, this is all you ever think about, isn't it? Ever since-"

"Dare."Tim spat maliciously. "You dare, and I will beat the crap out of your pathetic body and choke you with your own intestines." He was in Shaun's personal space now, their noses almost touching. I stepped back, but even from here I could see the resentment burning like wild fires in Tim's eyes.

"Whatever. Fuck this shit, man. Come on Frank, we're out." I followed Shaun sheepishly into the classroom.

Needless to say, it was a pretty awkward English lesson.

I have never been happier to hear the monotonous shrill of a school bell echo through the corridors. Quickly making my excuses to Shaun, I hurried off in search of a bathroom. Not only did I need to piss, but I needed a quiet area to digest what had just happened. Pushing through the crowds, my thought crept in and overtook my objective.

Just what was that heated argument about? There was certainly a taboo subject regarding Tim, this much was certainly obvious. Personal life, maybe? Love life? Well, Tim had complained about this 'genderslut' being bisexual and Shaun had inferred an 'incident' had happened, so what basis was that to stand on? Maybe he's confused and he made a pass for one of the boys, more than likely Shaun. Or maybe he had an illicit fling with a boy. As I reached the conclusion that Shaun would probably end up telling me throughout the day thanks to his inability to keep secrets (it was plausible that I knew more about the school from having a ten minute conversation with him than most of the heads of the 'cliques') I spotted something literally breathtaking.

Despite imagining this scenario one thousand and one times, nothing could have prepared me for the sight that met my eyes.

Directly opposite stood a tall-ish boy with Jet Black hair, a frayed black leather jacket, and a dark blue satchel. In one hand he carried a phone that was ringing and the other he used to push the bathroom door in front of him open, entering with caution. I weaved through the crowds, attempting to reach the restroom within the next three seconds.

As I approached the door, I listened inside, Footsteps, but other than that, quietness. Silently as I could I opened the door and slipped inside.

He was stood facing the wall, with a hand on his hip and one knee slightly bent, as if he was posing for a photo. The ringing had now ceased and the device was pressed against his ear.

"Y'ello?" He says sounding slightly pissed off. I noiselessly darted into one of the cubicles and bit my hand in order to stop me squealing at the authoritive undertones in his voice.

The only words I managed to catch from the anonymous caller were "Gerard...listen..." then the only thing I could hear was a very attractive albeit angry man shouting.

"YOU'VE DONE WHAT?" I peered out of the cubicle and saw that Gerard had removed the phone from his ear and was now holding it in front of his mouth, shouting excessively into the receiver. "Why?" His voice raised an octave on the lone word. "Why did you do that?"

I can tell from his voice that he's suppressing the urge to smirk when he speaks next. "Jeez Mikey, you are an idiot sometimes you know. Most of the time I have a hard time believing I'm any relation to you, let alone your brother!"

Oh. Well, that's cleared up the mysterious identity of the caller, then.

"Michael I have no absolutely no advice that would be in any way remotely useful for this situation." He stated rather Matter-of-factly.

'Mikey's' voice becomes louder and more frantic and angry, and yet again I only hear snippets of his speech before his sibling cuts him off.

"Useless...Japanese Prime Minister...Do you know what..."

"WELL IT WASN'T MY IDEA TO PUT A CONDOM ON THE DOG'S FACE, WAS IT?" Gerard clicked the phone off with a slightly triumphant sigh.

I returned to the safety of the cubicle and leant against the wall, barely able to suppress my laughter.

I can truly say that I wasn't expecting _that_.

My imagination instantly whirred into overdrive and before I know it I have a highly illogical explanation for all of this.

_(("What are you laughing at, poo face?" Mikey growls threateningly at the animal. "Yeah, I know your secrets. I've seen you eat your own faeces in the back yard, you disgust me." He slurs. The dog cocks its head to the side and looks slightly bemused._

_This quick movement is enough to lead a very drunk Mikey to believe that his dog's head has just turned into male genitalia._

"_What?" He shrieks. "How did you do that?" The dog licks its lips for an unknown reason, and now the penis Mikey is envisioning has gained a tongue. "Holy fuck!" He wails. "Oh god, you're a monster! How can I protect myself? Quick Mikey, think!" He grabs his wallet, rips out a small packet, and tears the top off of it. He removes the condom from said packet and slowly inches towards the dog, armed. "Ha-ha, not gonna get me." The taunt is barely understandable, thank to the empty vodka bottles strewn everywhere. The dog still looks at Mikey, confused and puzzled._

_Then Mikey sees a window of opportunity and strikes, "HAHAHA!" He exclaims, managing to fit the condom over the dog's head, up to its perked ears. "Your mutant sperms can't get me now, penis dog creature!" Mikey sits back, impressed with his work._

_After a while he realises he should probably alert someone of the current situation (in which he was almost attacked by a dog's head that transformed into a dick.) he finds Gerard's number and hazily holds the phone up to his ear._

"_Y'ello?"_

"_Gerard, Listen, I've..." )) _

Okay, I'm pretty sure that didn't happen. But those thoughts had caused me to be hysterical, and convulsions of uncontrollable laughter ripped through my body as I thought of Mikey's strange and fictional encounter. I stepped out of the cubicle and faced Gerard. He'd turned around, and was looking so shocked at my presence I might as well have been an apparition.

"Frank!" He practically shouts, looking overly happy to see me.

"...What just happened?" I asked, my amusement clouded by the major confusion I was experiencing.

There was a small silence. Right then is when I remember that it shouldn't be funny to me. Dogs are by far my favourite animal, and why the fuck had this 'Mikey' even thought of doing this to a defenceless creature? I gave Gerard a chance to repent for his brother's sins.

"Well...my brother..."

Too Slow! Here comes my inner-animal-rights-campaigner.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOUR BROTHER HARMED ONE OF MY MINIONS! HOW DARE HE COMMIT THIS BLASPHEMOUS ACT!" I ranted, barely being able to stifle the laughter. My cheeks hurting from resisting laughter was certainly worth Gerard's puzzlement though.

"I-I don't think he hurt it...and..er..um..Minions, Frank?" He stuttered, baffled.

Personally I thought my choice of words was rather marvellous.

"I like dogs a lot, okay?" I snapped, letting the humour leak into my voice. I still pulled an angry expression though, pretending to be horrified.

He stepped towards me, and although he tried to hide it, he studied my choice of clothes. I'm not what I was expecting, after all I did meet him at a LGBT club: fashion conscious was cute, especially when I was being scrutinized by those mesmerizing hazel orbs.

Suddenly he broke out of his intense outfit analysis and his face brightened. "I didn't know you came here!"

"Uh, yeah, just moved...Dad's Job..." I feigned awkwardness, mainly because like I said before I don't have a clue of what my dad's job is, but also partly because I didn't want to offload my problems onto the most attractive acquaintance I'd ever made.

"So, how are you liking this shit-hole of a school?" He grinned. Obviously, Gerard doesn't have the nicest experience here. I felt slight guilty, due to the fact I happened to walk into the most popular boy in the school on my very first day and instantly gain a whole new group of friends and a shit load of respect from people I don't even know, while Gerard seemed like he struggled through every hour here.

"I'm getting along, I suppose." I watered down the truth. This is by far the best I've ever 'got along' in any school so far. "I've got a few friends. I've kinda been looking forward to a fresh start, and well, It's my first day and..."

" I hope you enjoy it!" he interjected cheerily as he brushed his hand against my arm, instantly causing a huge grin to spread across my face, making my eyes light up and my cheeks blush slightly ; The whole works.

Goddamn my tendency to 'fangirl'.

It's not my fault he's so flawless.

It's not my fault I've well and truly (and rather dangerously, might I add) fallen for him.

"So, what did you do, out of curiosity, to the dog?" I asked, desperate to stop the conversation from drying out.

"Well, my brother gets bored easily, and for some reason the only things to hand were a dog and a condom...So now the dog has a condom on its face. Good job Mikey is only inquisitive, not perverse!" He chuckled lightly.

Ah, no drunken escapades then. That's a relief!

The droning bell rings again and the love I had for the bell during English is immediately replaced with resentment for interrupting my conversation with Gerard.

"Shit, Gotta go, enjoy your day!" He shot me a beaming smile and placed a re-assuring hand on my shoulder before he dashed out of the door.

I was left standing in the toilets, alone, with a shoulder that was practically dancing due to all the electric currents running through there. How could Gerard, someone I had met twice, have such an adverse effect on me? That would be one of the many queries stuck in my head today. But honestly, I doubted I would be able to take my mind off Gerard for long enough to remember how to breathe...


	4. Curious Incidents of Dogs and Condoms 2

_Shit, not again._

My stomach turns as I spot them from a distance.

Standing there, smoking, dressed in sportswear, annoyingly attractive - the Jocks. Being a normal, law abiding American citizen, I'd obviously had a few run-ins with the Jocks in my time. And then I came out, and things got progressively worse...

"Anyway" I say to myself, shaking my head, " I can get through. The only lessons I have today are Art, Maths, English and Phsycology. I can make it."

I keep walking, holding my head in such a downwards direction that my long, greasy hair flops over my eyes and I nearly trip over.

Not so inconspicuous.

Shaking the hair out of my eyes, I look up and concentrate on the fact that in 6 short hours my day will be over. That thought causes my walking speed to increase.

"The faster I get there, the quicker it's over!" I cheer quietly to myself.

...

The atmosphere in the noisy art studio is almost chaotic. That fact was hardly surprising as 25 slightly hyper, "artistically licensed" (their excuse for **crazy**), seventeen year olds are bounding around in seach of materials they deemed neccessary for their success in the world of art.

Dashing across the room, I manouvere myself into the most secluded, quiet spot in the whole room, which people like to call the "Loner's Chair". I'm not sure whether they named it before or after I had decided to sit there, but whoever named it and for whatever reason did so, it stuck, and it stuck well (the name, not the chair. Imagine having to walk around for the rest of your life with a chair stuck to your butt...).

The task, as it had said so on the board for a few weeks now, was to create our own interpretation of beauty. Only now, I realise that my interpretation of beauty has changed. It's not the death and destruction it once was, but all the good-nature and good-natured people in the world. Like...Him. No, not God. _Him._

Frank.

I tear a small piece of paper out of my notepad and begin drawing.

...

I look down at it. I had planned to draw a compilation of all the features, characteristic and qualities I like in a person, or that I think are remarkable, but I have one problem.

Everything I try to draw looks like him. Every single attempt at artwork has ended up with his beautiful, delicate features.

I laugh.

"You've really reeled me in, Frank." I say to myself, chuckling and grinning as I imagine Frank literally reeling me in.

That thought is affecting me greatly. I can't stop smiling. It's a strangely arousing thought, you know?

Unf. He's so sexy.

Surely it's not legal to be that sexy...?

Crap, he's only fourteen. Am I allowed to think of him in this way?

Heck, even if you told me right now that I wasn't, I don't think I'll be able to help myself. In the words of Basil Hallward (by far the best character in Oscar Wilde's '_A Picture of Dorian Gray_'), I feel like the personality of Frank (rather than Dorian) will dominate me for a long time.

...

Maths. Maths. Maths.

I sigh. I've never really been good at it. I probably never will be. But still, it's something I have to study.

Now, under normal circumstances, I would be trying my hardest to get to grips with the principals of surds or quantum physics of whatever it is we're studying but today, as you might have noticed, there's only one thing I can think about. And no, it's not what your parents keep telling you boys 'always' think about (in fact, I hardly ever thing of 'that thing'), it is, you guessed it, Frank.

How can I have been so wholly and truly encapsulated by a person who I'd met once and whose last name I didn't even know?

I have no idea.

But love is a strange thing, isn't it?

...  
The bell rings and the students that had just endured the same tediously boring maths lesson as me spill out into the corridor. I gather my belongings (my satchel in dark blue - my favourite colour -, my comics, my artwork and various homework books and study resources) and head out into the corridor. As soon as I hear the dim 'click' of the door shutting behind me, I feel my phone ringing in my pocket.

The screen reads - "MIKEY CALLING."

Sighing, I dash and dart my way through the crowds into the fairly quiet bathrooms. Thankfully, no-one is using the urinals, so I can have a civilized conversation with my brother in peace without someone shouting "GERARD, PASS THE POT!" down the phone just to embarrass me.

"Y'ello?" I say, sounding slightly peeved - I don't like getting called by my family, it makes me feel like something bad must be happening.

"Gerard.. Listen, I've..." I listen carefully as he shares the details of the events of the past hour with me.

"YOU'VE DONE WHAT?" I yell down the reciever as if he were living in the next state. Actually, I'd be surprised if people in China hadn't heard me.

He repeats what he'd just told me, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"WHY DID YOU DO THAT?" I question furiously. I could be a really intimidating detective, you know.

"It sounded fun. And plus, he looks really funny now..." he replies nonchalantly.

"Jeez, Mikey, you 'are' an idiot sometimes, you know." I am almost tempted to laugh.

"Dude, yeah, I know, but can you help me?" he inquires.

"I have no appropriate advice, Mikey." I say with a serious tone to my voice.

"Why! Gerard, you're so useless! I don't know why I even came to you for help - you're not helping 'at all'! In fact, I might as well have gone up to the Japanese President or Prime Minister or whatever they call him over there and asked, 'Hey, do you know what to do if-"

"WELL IT WASN'T MY IDEA TO PUT A CONDOM ON THE DOGS FACE, WAS IT?"

With that, I hang up on him. Pfft!

Giggling errupts from one of the cubicles.

I know that laugh! I'd recognise it anywhere! It's in my dreams! It's...

He stepped out from the cubicle, covering his bright-red-from-laughing face with his tiny hands.

"Frank!" I exclaim in surprise, fighting the urge to pick him up and snuggle him to death.

"What the fuck, Gerard?" he says with a look of half-anger, half-amusement on his perfect face.

There is a small silence.

"Well, my brother -" I start.

"- YOU DID WHAT TO A DOG? HOW DARE YOU HURT ONE OF MY MINIONS?"

"Um... er... Well... Minions?" I say, baffled by his choice of words.

"I like dogs a lot, 'okay'? he snaps jokingly, though I assume he's deadly serious - the look on his face says enough! (Furrowed brow, narrowed eye-lids...)

I step towards him, studying his outfit. He's only wearing a plain black t-shirt, dark skinny-jeans, ankle-boots and a beanie yet he looks amazing. He looks like one of those people who wake up looking fabulous every day of their lives, wear plain outfits but still look great and have to deal with jealousy from a shit-load of people.

"I didn't know you came here?" I say, snapping myself out of my analysis. If he'd been here before, how the hell hadn't I noticed? People with faces like that couldn't lie low for long. And plus, someone with such a strange, pure, unadulterated innocence doesn't go un-appreciated.

"Uh, yeah, just moved. Dad's job..." He shoots me an uncomfortable look and I decide not to press him any further on the matter.

"So, how do you like this shit-hole of a high school?" I ask, attempting to be amusing. It probably won't work. I'm not a funny guy, really.

"I'm getting along, I suppose." he says, "I've got a few friends. I've kinda been looking forward to a fresh start and, well, it's my first day, and..."

"I hope you enjoy it!" I cheer, doing the touchy-arm thing again and looking directly into his huge hazel-eyes.

He smiles. It's a genuine smile, I can tell. His eyes light up as he smiles - it sounds cheesy, but that's how you know it's genuine. I wonder if he smiles like that all the time, or just around me. Probably all the time, he seems an amazingly earnest person...

I like him. I like him ' a lot'.

"So what did you do, out of curioisity, to the dog...?" He asks, with a slight look of worry in his eyes.

"Well... You see, my brother is bored easily, so he was just.. there and... So was the dog..." I explain.

"Oh..." He says before his speech is drowned out by the bell.

"Shit, gotta go! HAVE A NICE DAY!" I yell, dashing out of the bathroom and into the hallway.  
I pant as I come to the door of my next class. Disguising my act as '"catching my breath", I ponder over the fact that 'he', Frank, is in 'my high school'. Does that mean I have more of a chance with him, or less of a chance? Will he fall for me quicker, or be so horrified by my personality as he gets to know me that he runs a mile before even a brushing of lips against cheek? Or am I that awful that he'll be running for the hills before we've even shared an in-joke or a can of coke in a local cafe? Before the first hurdle?

For me, the first kiss is the first hurdle. That simple act of pressing lips together can cement whether it's meant to be or not. They can make or break a relationship. It all counts on the fireworks. No sparks, no hope. 'Usually.'

Sometimes the most unlikely couple get together and once they discover the lack of spark in their relationship, they 'make' it work. They work and they don't stop until they've created something beautiful. Not always perfect, but always beautiful. They belong to eachother. Forever. Always.

Could I ever have that? Could I ever be the apple of someone's eye? The reason for their being? Could I ever give my heart so selflessly to someone and gain theirs in return? Is that what love means? Is it more than what you see in the movies where they get together and live happily ever after? Is love comprised of not only happiness but turbulance, angst, depression and all that makes us human?

I shook my head as I entered the classroom. I'd never meant a thing to anyone but my family.

"That first hurdle has never been reached, and I don't see it in the distance." Those words of woe echo in my mind. But they're not my only thoughts. A quiet whisper in the back of my mind, the whisper of hope, rings almost silently amongst the woeful echo. A single word, that when aknowlegdged can alter my frame of mind completely -

"Yet."

Author's Note: Sorry about how short this is compared to Lilly's Frank chapter. I cannot write in bulk _**at** all!_ Anyway, yes, sorry about it. Have a lovely day/night/week/year where-ever you are, whoever you are! 3 :)


	5. Kill or Be Killed

CHAPTER 3

When I arrived at the French classroom I eagerly searched the pupils for Gerard. There were a couple of kids I recognised from Maths and English, but not the boy I had been hopelessly searching for. Why had I even bothered to look for him? He was three years older than you Frank, and really didn't seem like the type of person who'd get kept behind due to lack of effort.

A young woman sporting lots of freckles and a messy bun interrupted my internal scolding with a single clap of her hands.

"_Bonjour __étudiants_!" she chirped in an unusually enthusiastic voice. "_J'espère que nous sommes tous bien aujourd'hui_!"

There were grumbles of agreement and a couple "_Oui, merci beaucop_!" from around the room. Her eyes fell to me.

"Ah, Mr. Lero!" She smiled, and blatantly mispronounced my surname. I tried to interject, to correct her, but she cut me off and continued to talk.

"I see you chose your seat. _Magnifique!_ You'll soon be joined by the constantly late and flustered Neil Sabatino. He is rather useless at most things academic, including getting to lessons at the correct time!"

Almost as if were scripted, a boy panting for breath suddenly burst through the door."Ah, speak of _du diable_. Fashionably late as usual, monsieur Sabatino."

He ambled through the classroom, mumbling a "Sorry Miss Brown" and practically threw himself down next to me.

"Tsk, Tsk, that's Madame Brown to you all! We're in _francès _now, not England."

He turned to me and smiled "Hey, I'm Neil."

I nodded my head and returned the smile. "Frank"

"Yeah, kinda guessed, Shaun didn't shut up about you for the whole of break! Where were you anyway? He was stressed that he might have lost you somewhere around the school."

I had originally chosen this seat because the one adjacent had been vacant, but I could tell straight away that sitting next to Neil wouldn't be a chore. He had dirty blonde long-ish hair that was swept into a side fringe, just beginning to obscure his eyes. He also had a genuine, warm smile and I was having a hard time believing that he was a selfish narcissist like the rest of 'our group'

"Uh, well, I went to the bathroom...and then...couldn't figure out where I was..." I lied unconvincingly. _"Not really! I spent all break listening to a phone conversation the person I'm infatuated with was having, then followed it up by having a very brief and slightly awkward conversation with them!"_ Hmm, I wonder how that would go down...

"No worries man, this school is fucking huge!" He said with a re-assuring tone, mistaking my stuttering improvisation for embarrassment. "It took me a whole year to fully find my way around every part of the school!"

I laughed slightly. "Seriously this school needs damn tour guides or something!"

"Very true my friend, so very true." He chuckled.

Our conversation was ended by the very shrill tone of Madame Brown's voice.

As the lesson progressed I had a couple more conversations with Neil, and it was clear to see that he was very clever. The thought from before strengthened. My curiosity won and I decided to question him on his class arrangements.

"Hey, Neil, can I ask you something?"

"Don't see why not! What is it?" His answer only confirmed by thought of 'He is way, WAY too nice to be a jock.'

"How come you've been kept back until my year? Sorry if it's sensitive; It's just Shaun told me they kept all of you back because you slacked off, but you're good at the work set and you're really attentive in lessons."

He digested the information, and then spontaneously broke into an uncontrollable smile. "Thanks, really Frank. I'm glad someone's noticed I'm not a moron like the rest of my friends." He was still grinning."I'm dyslexic. But, Meadowscale high isn't exactly the best at dealing with pupils who aren't '100% Normal' so they think I'm an idiot and refuse to give me any extra help, and they've kept me here until I manage to pass the classes I'm studying. In truth, I'm only friends with Shaun and his gang because they're the only ones my age in the year and I knew them throughout elementary."

This was the moment I decided I liked Neil more than any of my new friends. He was probably the nicest and most down-to-earth friend I'd ever made in any school.

"What's your story then?" He questioned. "The jock's intelligence level seems to low for you to even tolerate. You're much cooler than the guys too."

Me? Cooler than the jocks? I've got to admit, I was seriously flattered. If my subconciousness hadn't been completely dominated by Gerard, I think I might have started to develop small butterflies in my stomach for Neil.

"Man that means a lot...Well to be honest I'm not entirely sure!" I half-joked. "When I was lost for the first time, I was that engrossed by the map the office had given me that I walked head first into Shaun. He seems to have 'taken me under his wing' as it were, so now I'm friends with you guys. Oh! Err..." I lowered my tone a bit. "Except for Tim. He seems to have decided to hate my guts."

Neil gave me an understanding look. "Oh don't worry about Tim. He's having a bit of a rough time at home these past months, and you deserve to know why he's unnecessarily being a dick to you." He pauses. "I can see his reasoning though. You look like his brother, and his whole family have practically just disowned said brother because he came out as pansexual to them all. They're severe Roman Catholics, and were even more disappointed when they found out he'd attempted suicide because of their reactions. They've completely washed their hands of him, and Tim is struggling because he was incredibly close to his brother."

Woah. I felt pretty shitty about complaining before, thinking the world revolved around myself just because one person didn't like me. "Ah..." I trailed off. "Not the best." Was the only thing I could think to say, and it was definitely not the most empathetic phrase that's ever left my mouth. "That explains why he called me an emo." A light bulb illuminated in my head and I remembered the question that had plagued my mind before my encounter with Gerard.

"Uhm Neil, who's the Genderslut? According to Tim I'm his 'emo little brother'".

"...The Genderslut" He gestured quotation marks as he said the name. "Is Shaun's nickname for someone in our year, our proper year. Shaun's pride and joy is basically making his life hell. He went to our elementary, Shaun's always hated him but he got a valid reason to when he came out as bisexual. Personally, I think he's a nice guy. Don't see him any different from before he came out, but if I let the boys know this then I'd be ridiculed almost as much as him and exiled from the 'group', which is something I can't afford. Are you familiar with a tallish boy who has Jet Black Hair? Gerard Way." He begins his last sentence in a traditional nursery-rhyme fashion. "Gerard Way the almost gay! He's a slut, a Genderslut!" He paused again. "We have Mr. Simons to thank for that song. It's surprising really, how one immature taunt can be so detrimental yet so vital in destroying someone's high school life."

"Oh no. My Gerard. Not my Gerard" I whispered involuntarily, wearing the shocked expression of a rabbit caught in headlights.

I covered my mouth to stop the words from tumbling out.

But it was too late.

Neil heard them. My plans for finally fitting in somewhere had just been smashed into an incomprehensible amount of pieces.

"Oh." Neil looks at me, slightly shocked. "I guess you do know him then. Erm...might sound like a stupid question but...how well do you know him? Because if Shaun finds ou-"

I cut him off.

"I've known him for a week had two conversations with him and I think I've fallen in love with every fibre of his being."

"Ah. Not the best." He sighs sympathetically.

...

"You think you can find your way to the dining hall?" Neil asked. "I've left my bag in the homeroom, god knows how I've only just noticed that."

"Don't worry." I re-assured. "It's directly below us, I don't think I can get lost walking down a flight of stairs!"

He pulled me into a brief hug before setting off towards his form. Me and Neil had established a solid friendship during French. We now knew almost everything there was to know about each other, since we hadn't stopped talking for the whole lesson. He had agreed to keep the 'Gerard Thing' quiet, which I was immensely grateful for. The last thing I need is a bunch of homophobic enemies and Gerard thinking I'm some sort of clingy kid who he wished he'd never approached!

Once I found my way to the dinner hall I lined up quietly. The queue soon depleted and within a couple of minutes I had reached the tills. As I paid for my food, I glanced over at the adjacent checkout.

Low and behold, who should I see?  
I don't even think I have to identify them, you've probably already guessed.

He turned round at that moment and caught my eye.

"H-Hey." I stumbled "Hey Gerard." For some reason since my 'outburst' I seemed to have become rather shy around him.

"Hi Frank!"

We picked up our trays of food and surveyed the dining room for somewhere to sit.

"So, mind informing me of the clique's sitting arrangements?" I laughed nervously.

"Table to our left: Popular Girls. Able to get anything, and I mean anything. Table to our right: Gamers. Don't even think of engaging in conversation with them until you've played at least 5 titles on every single games console that's ever been released." His eyes lingered on the table far in front of us that housed Tim and Neil. "Uh...and..." He faltered. "T-That's the jock's table. You get in with them, you're perfection for your high school life. You choose _anyone _over them and it's social suicide." He attempted to say it matter-of-factly, but we both heard the hints of resignation sorrow and hurt that plagued his voice.

I looked over. Tim was staring intently at his phone. Where was this 'John' person, another of my supposed 'friends'? I'd heard quite a bit about him but not actually seen the boy in person yet! My small thought bubble was popped when I saw Neil looking straight at me. He raised his eyebrows and shot me a warning glance after looking at the seat diagonal to him that was empty. My guess at his caution?

'Careful what you're doing Frank! Shaun catches you and you're dead before you high school life can begin.'

I looked back, trying to portray a thankful expression. I also gestured a subtle thumbs up to let him know everything was going alright. His expression relaxed and he returned the gesture, then began to talk to Tim as if our silent exchange had been imaginary.

"Oh right...And your space?" I continued.

He pointed to the table near the right wall, in the corner over on the other side of the huge cafeteria. "They sorta' Banished me, I suppose."

As we walked to the table, we attempted small talk.

"So, like many of the teachers?"

"Ugh, Are any of them even qualified?" My vague humour was drowned out by the silence in the hall. EVERYONE stared, at Gerard more than me, and I could tell by their expressions they were thinking something along the lines of 'Woah! Gerard Way has social skills?"

I heard Neil attempt to strike up a conversation in order to bring normality back to the hall. It worked, but not as planned...People began to talk, but it was hushed whispers about the both of us, not the normal topics Gerard Neil and myself had hoped for.

"Where are you friends sat?" Gerard asked curiously.

"Uh..." I racked my brains for an excuse, but nothing came to mind. "Uh..." Shit. Either way, this was going to end spectacularly badly. "I'm uh...Friends with Neil and Shaun and Tim." I gestured vaguely to the table two of the three boys were situated on.

Punching him square in the face would probably have been more merciful. I saw the sparkles in his eyes instantly extinguish and I could practically hear his heart plummeting at 100mph as all the hope escaped from its deflated form.

With an expression that could only be described as 'Distraught', he looked at me with pleading eyes.

"Please Frank. Not them. Not Shaun. Anyone but them."

At that exact moment Shaun Simons entered the cafeteria, and all eyes shot to him. He looked around with uncertainty until his eyes met mine.

"Hey Frank, come sit with us!" He registered who I stood next to and after he had digested the information and made some assumptions of his own, his expression changed to disgusted. "What the fuck are you doing, Genderslut? He's with us, there's no point trying to seduce him you pervert. Frank, get away from him!"

I looked, lost, from the most popular boy in the school to the boy with Jet Black Hair. As the seconds ticked by and neither I nor Gerard did anything to refute or protest against the claims, his expression hardened.

"Yeah Frank, no use talking to me. Better get away before I try something dodgy." He spat.

"Gerard, look-" I was the one pleading now. "Can we talk about this...somewhere else? Like, somewhere where everyone isn't watching our every move?"

"No. Listen to Shaun. I'm just a washed up slut, don't feel you should commit social suicide on my account." His words ached, dripped, pooled with malice and he refused to look at me.

"...fine." I said unemotionally as I could. If he was going to be a dick, I could play that game too.

I turned on my heel and sat myself down next to Neil. "Sorry about that guys!" I said, faking a smirk."Not entirely sure what happened there"

Shaun turned to the inhabitants of the dinner hall who were still watching our every move. "Mind your own fucking business!" he shouted angrily, then turned back to me. "Jesus Frank stay away from him!" his tone of voice was lowered and sounded concerned. It almost sounded like he expected Gerard to force me into homosexuality and brainwash me into being a part of some 'gay army' that did his bidding.

Believe me, no force would be required.

Neil placed a hand on my shoulder, and same shoulder Gerard had touched before, and looked at me. 'You okay?' he mouthed.

I shrugged, then nodded half-heartedly.

"I'll help" He promised.

So, this is how high school was in New Jersey, was it? Protect yourself and yourself only. No compassion.

No heart.

Kill Or Be Killed.

Kill one another's hopes, anyways.

...

History. Last lesson. If I don't get out of here soon I'm going to do something that will be instantly regrettable.

Well, what an eventful first day I've had!

There was some sort of task about the cold war on the board, but that didn't interest me. My mind was not in the past, nor the present. My mind was focused solely on my future.

My future with Gerard, to be more specific.

I'd never particularly believed in 'Love at First Sight'. It all seemed too movie like to be real. However, since I met Gerard my beliefs had changed. This last week my brain had thought of nothing but this attractive acquaintance who liked Nirvana and the colour Dark Blue.

And before you say it, it's not just my hormones. It's not just my feelings being 'all over the place' because I've moved house which is stressful. It's not just lust, eating away at me every second of the day. It's not just the adrenaline of flirting with someone older, someone potentially more experienced and commandeering. It's not just loneliness, the subconciousness of wanting someone, which has caused me to develop an attachment to a stranger.

It's different.

It's much deeper than all of that.

This boy, the boy with Jet Black Hair, is changing my whole outlook on life. Gerard is the only person who has actually made me want to think about my future.

Before, my main concerns were of meagre importance: which was the best album by my favourite band, are there any good movies released this month, do I have enough money to buy those jeans, and many other useless thoughts. I was having trouble finding myself and was in no appropriate mindset to think of the life ahead of me. I didn't even want to think about the next school year, let alone my whole life but Gerard had me thinking about a decade, maybe more, down the line.

Would I spend the rest of my life with him? Would we settle down and buy a place together? Would my parents approve of him? Would his parents approve of me?

Although after the events of the past hour my thoughts _may_ be vestigial.

What the hell was I thinking, choosing Shaun Simons over Gerard Way? Not only were they arch-nemesis', but Gerard had never done anything that would be worthy of fuelling Shaun's hatred for him.

I too may have made an arch-nemesis of Gerard Way after the lunch break. I felt intense pangs of heartache from just thinking of how icily he spat those words, the hurt laced into each and every syllable. What had I done?

Had I destroyed both our chances of happiness with one act of shallow selfishness?

But who was to say he even had any inkling of this sort of feeling towards me?

I needed to talk to him, to apologize profusely and explain absolutely everything, including my feelings for him. School was a no-go, after the drama that unravelled today I don't want another showdown for all to see...so where?

The club. The perfect place.

I'll patch this up. I'll make this work, even if it becomes the death of me.

...

AN: Hello all! Lilly here. Well, wasn't this an eventful chapter, eh?

I hope you're enjoying the story so far, it's very fun to write:)

I'm not too good with reflections like the one at the end, so I think I'll leave that to Robyn next time! (Seriously, have you read Gerard's POV of chapter two? Mind. Blowing.)

Anyway, I'll try and write less for the next chapter, heheh.

Stay peaceful! 3


	6. Kill or Be Killed 2

English is actually on of my better lessons. I mean, I'm useless at story-writing, but I can write a _mean_ poem when needed. (And by "mean", I mean _AWESOME_.)

Sadly, poetry isn't on the course. I pray that we're not doing studying informal texts. The hopelessly long words go completely over my head.

As I enter the classroom I notice that there is something different about our teacher. Instead of the usual old, evil, bitter Mrs McDonald sitting at her desk there's a supply teacher. But not one of those last minute never-taught-a-class-in-my-whole-life supply teachers that we usually get, this one was a very cool, very young, leather-clad substitute who looked like he'd been through _a_ _lot_ in his life. He looked like a story-teller. The type of guy who rides an expensive motor cycle but has no-one to ride it with. I hope that's not true, everyone deserves someone to theoretically ride a motorcycle with. Even just a friend, right?

"Uh, " he mumbles in a broad L.A accent, fiddling with his long blonde hair, "Er, right, so, you guys know what you're doing, right?"

Half of us nod, half of us shake our heads.

"Pfft. Just do it. Do whatever." he says, leaning back in his chair and pulling out 'Motor Weekly' (I knew it!) "Go!"

"Er, sir." cries a girl whose name escapes me, "You haven't even told us your name yet."

"Keehl. Mr Keehl. But you can call me.. Er...Sir." he answers, sounding almost confused over what name to give her. It sounded like a failed chat-up line to me.

So I begin writing. Nothing in particular. Just words. Simple.

As the bell rings I slip the scrap of note-paper with my writing on into my pocket so Mr Keehl doesn't collect it in. Thankfully, he is absorbed in reading something-or-rather and doesn't even glance in my direction.

I bid him a silent goodbye. He's quiet, but I like that guy.

Anyway, lunch. Lunch. Lunch.

My mind, for once, is on something with no relavence to Frank.

_Food._

As I enter the cafeteria I am hit by a pang of nostalgia. I remember my first year, and how much the simple placement of a person at a table meant. Scanning the room, I spot the cliques straight away. If you were on the table directly to my left you were a popular girl who, no matter how badly behaved you were or how cruelly you treated those around you, could get anything or anyone you wanted so long as you stayed in that crowd. On the other hand, if you were directly to my right you were a strict gamer, whose only place in the social crowd was to be the guy at the back of the house party playing on the X-box.

I sigh.

How can society be so shallow?

I smile at the dinner lady as I pick up my selection and place it neatly on my tray. I take the usual: a tuna sandwich and an apple, and then I make my way towards the first empty table I can find. But, as luck may have it, something stands in my way.

"Hey!" says Frank cheerfully, "Hey, Gerard."

I smile subconsciously.

"So, mind explaining the table cliques to me?" he giggles.

Echoing my thoughts aloud, I explain to him how it works around here.

"So, the days been good?" I ask, setting myself down at a table nearby, ignoring the stares of the students around me who'd never seen me speak before. Their stares bare into my skull but I don't care - I'm with _him_ so nothing else matters.

Oh ho, I'm so cheesy.

"Well, I mean, it's been all right and I think people are warming to me. Don't think much of the teachers, though. Are any of them actually qualified?" he jokes.

I laugh loudly, just to show people that I _do_ have friends, and I _can_ have fun. I can still feel them staring right through me, analysing me is if I were a puzzle yet to be solved but still, I do not care.

"So, you've got friends?" I smile- happy for him.

"Yes!" he squeals, joining me "I met these guys." He gestures towards a group of 5 or so guys on the table to my left.

The _jocks_.

"Frank, they're not -" I start, before being interrupted rudely.

"OI, FRANK, you're with us, right?" the jock-leader calls, bounding over to rest his hand on Frank's shoulder.

I recognise the guy immediately. Shaun Simons. He taunted me all the way through lower school. The toughest, meanest guy in the whole school. My age, but kept back a couple of years due to lack of brain cells. This guy is a total nutcase.

"I can't believe you're even talking to this _LOSER_. Don't talk to the Genderslut. _We_ don't talk to the Genderslut." he spits, glaring angrily at Frank.

_Genderslut_.

A name.

A nickname.

A derogatory nickname.

_My_ name.

Frank looks from me to Shaun with a look of frustration. He _knows_ sitting with me would be social suicide. He _knows_ that he'd never live down sitting next to someone... Like me. Uncool. But that's how it is in a high school like this. You're either uncool, or you pick on the uncool kids. You kill or be killed.

"...Stay..." I choke out, just loud enough for someone with super-human hearing to hear. (Smooth...)

But then I change my mind.

"Go, Frank, go. I'm just... I... There's no point in talking to me. I've been alone and I can do it again, right?"

"... Not here." Frank says, hanging his head low.

"Not here? Either listen to Shaun and leave this _washed up slut_ alone," I gesture towards myself, "or commit social suicide and stay..."

"_With me._" I say, spitting the words out cold and harsh from the back of my throat.

"Fine."

Fine.

_Fine_.

**_Fine_**.

The words hit me like a final blow to the head.

_Or the heart._

Suddenly, after only seconds of silence, Shaun grabs ahold of Frank and literally pulls him back to the table.

It should be enough for me to sympathise with him, but Frank isn't resisting. He's not even _trying_ to stay here with me.

And I don't blame him.

Frank neither struggles nor calls as I walk away and he is dragged back to the jock's table.

My head hurts from the weight of their words and my voice cracks from the strain of my own cruel ones and I turn to look back. Frank smiles, but not at me. He's staring into his food with the arm of a jock resting firmly around his shoulders. Whoever the guy is, clearly he's more important than myself, at least to Frank.

I sigh and ponder thier relationship.

Is he a friend? A good friend? A _really_ good friend? Someone he likes? Or someone he_ like likes_?

I want to tell him how bad they made me feel. I want to tell him how it feels to be bullied, victimised, wronged. To feel wronged. To feel _wrong._ Would he have reacted differently if he'd known that they were the very guys that taunt me constantly for nothing else but being myself? For being bi, for wearing black, for reading comics. For being lonely. For being "emo". For the deep scars on my wrists. For _existing._

Maybe he _is_ better off with out me? I mean, who am I but a loser?

With that thought ringing in my ears, I throw my lunch dramatically into the waste bin and head off to my next lesson.

I arrive 20 minutes early, settle down at my desk and stare out of the window. I stare out at the world and think about_ him_. Have I left him for good, or has he abandoned me? We weren't anything in the first place, but now we were less than nothing.

It's as if we hadn't even met.

Okay, that's a bit melodramatic, I can, thankfully (or perhaps not) remember him, and I still long to be with him, but, for what it's worth, does he deserve me? Does he deserve all the angst, depression and fear of rejection that come with the "Gerard" package? Is it egocentric for me to thing that I can ever make him happy? Am I crazy to think that one day that coy curve of his pierced lips could be down to me, or a product of thinking of me?

A loud bang shoves me out of my daydream.

"What are you doing?" asks the stranger who sits next to me, unintentionally slamming his folder down onto the table.

"Um. Ah. I was just... Thinking." I reply, taking in the details of this valiant stranger, prepared to sit with me until the end of the semester. This particular stranger smiles, and twirls a lock of this curly brown hair. He's taller than me - and standing up - so I have to bend my neck in order to see him clearly. His eyes are deep brown and I can tell he keeps secrets, but his smile leaves him so vunerable that it's hard not to trust him.

"About what?" he ponders, but on seeing my face quickly corrects himself. "About_ whom_?"

Damn, if I thought I'd spend the lesson telling someone whose name I didn't know all of my secrets then I wouldn't have arrived so early. Sighing, I decide to bite the bullet and tell him.

"A guy."

He thinks for a minute, gazing at the ceiling and waiting for more information.

"Your boyfriend?"

"No." I snap, frustrated. I don't usually talk about my feelings. For me, it looks like, feelings are forever things to be bottled up and dragged out in bouts of alcholic anger or in long nights of self harm and depression.

"But you want him to be?"

Fuck, can this guy read my mind?

"How...?" I inquire, bemused by the fact that he may know more about me than I do myself.

I wait for his answer, desperately reaching for some rational conclusion of how this guy can read me like a book. It's hard to imagine that anyone can see through the blood, sweat and tear stains on the torn, frayed pages of the book documenting life so far.

"I know." he says passively, grinning at me and sitting down in the seat next to me.

"What the fuck?" I ask myself internally.

After a few moments, the silence is broken by his high-pitched voice once again.

"That's why I took phsychology, you know."

"... Wow, I guess. Then, er, yeah, well done. You've read me well." I admit, attempting to compliment him.

"I can also tell, by your eyes, that your name begins with a G, and you like to be alone. In solitary."

"Really? You can tell that from my eyes?"

He laughs, his voice breaking a little.

"No, dude, I looked at the seating plan. There are 29 people in this class - 30 now I'm here - and you're the only one sitting alone. You could've easily just plonked onto the edge of someone else's table, but no, you chose the spot right at the back, next to the window. You must be a dreamer."

This guy...?

"I - I don't know what to say." I say, obviously having thought of something to say.

"Then say nothing." he says, before extending his hand out for me to shake. "I'm Ray, Ray Toro. Guitar player. Nice to meet you, solitary Gerard."

I shake his hand firmly, before turning to stare out of the window again.

I wonder if Frank is thinking of me? I wonder what he's thi-

THRIIIING!

"There's the bell." Ray states as if I can't hear it. I shoot him a sarcastic look, but I make sure he doesn't take it too seriously.

Our teacher, Mrs Rogers, wanders in, saying as she does "Your task is to complete your study of the person of your choice. This is an assessed task, and you've had it for 3 weeks already. If you don't hand this in next lesson you'll be-"

I zone out, hoping Ray actually listens, and try to think back to my studies. I remember now. We had to study either someone we were very close to or an interesting/famous person. I never did choose one. I didn't want to choose Mikey, as I know all about him anyway, and I didn't much want to dig deep into the private lives of the people I admired, either. But now... Now I realise... I do have someone to study. Someone new, complex, beautiful, lovable, loathable, eccentric, different... And you know full well who it is.

Frank.

I smile at his name. But after the smile comes the sense of rejection I have been so afraid of feeling. But this hurts more. I didn't know I was capable of such emotion, but it turns out I am. I sigh inwardly, groaning at the fact that it feels like I've lost someone before I've even had the chance to find them.

"So, what did he do?" Ray asks, the curiosity evident in his tone of voice.

"He sat on the wrong table." I say, almost laughing at how trivial it sounds. "I mean, he chose his _friends_ over me. I'm a loser, and it feels like he knows it."

Ray laughs.

_'Why is he laughing?'_

Confused, I lean forward and ask him why he's laughing. He stops immediately and looks seriously towards me.

"A relationship isn't staying together all the time, you know." he states matter-of-factly, raising his thick eyebrows at me.

"Huh?" I say, thinking aloud. I _know_ a relationship isn't constant togetherness, but what does he mean? Does he think I'm stupid and is just stating the obvious, or is there more meaning in his words than the words themselves? I shiver, fearing it's the latter.

"Well, a relationship isn't about being together, it's making people feel better even when you're apart. Only someone who really loves you would choose their friends over you, as it shows not their denial of you, but their commitment to you, and the fact that they believe that you can do just as well without them. You see? This one ti-"

He has a point. In fact, I think he understands love to an in-human level, and certainly more than me, but I have to tell him anyway. Maybe he'll see the situation differently.

"I've only known him for a few days..." I interrupt, cringing a bit in admittal.

His passionate look does not change. In fact, he looks a little happier at that fact.

"Well, that's even better!" he squeals. "Because that means-"

"RAYMOND TORO!" the classroom assistant yells, stumbling over various items of stationary before arriving at our desk.

_Our_ desk. It looks like I've gained a friend! I smile internally, feeling a sudden warmth to counteract the chill I've been left with after the argument at lunch.

"You're needed." the assistant looks sombre as he says it, but Ray seems to understand the situation.

Forgetting all about me and his advice, he picks up his things and stands up to leave.

"Ray...!" I demand, tugging his sleeve as he attempts to walk away.

"Not now, Gerard. See you, solitary Gerard." he brushes my hand off of his arm and walks out in a hurry, glancing quickly back to throw me a sad smile.

"Fuck you, Raymond." I whisper sharply under my breath, but regret immediately afterwards. It's not his fault. It's not his fault I'm confused. Confused and hopelessly enamoured by a not-so tall, ever-so dark, handsome not-quite stranger.

I like Ray. He's a decent enough guy. Absolutely mad, but a wholesome guy. I hope I see him again. And I hope whatever he's been called out for isn't a bad thing. I think I'm going to enjoy Psychology now that he's here. I won't get peace and quiet by any means, but the conversation will be great. I wonder if he'll teach me some guitar?

My first friend, eh? Well, by friend I mean the first guy whose acted half-decent to me and whom I don't fancy (well, he's a handsome guy, and fuck, he's got charm, but I have my eyes elsewhere, you know?).

Disregarding the voices in my head, I put pen to paper and begin to write my study.

'My subject is a boy I once met. He's young, much younger than me, and I have chosen to study him because-' I argue in my head over what excuse to use '-he intrigues me. From his innocent smile to his dirty-joke laugh, he intrigues me. I've never met someone so open and yet so strong. Open people tend to be vulnerable, but not him. Not Frank.'

I ponder for a few moments over what to write next. Should I have put his name in it? What if I get really famous and we get married and then it comes out in some newspaper that I'd focused some dumb high school project about him? Would he leave? What if I'm walking down the corridor and the jocks come down the other way with him and then they knock into me, the paper falls out of my bag, they pick it up and laugh at me?

I shake my paranoia away and continue writing.

'He's a beautiful lie. A perfect imperfection. An enigma. Not that I don't think he's perfect. I do. I think he's the most perfect person in body and in mind (though I know him so little) I've ever met. '

My pen shakes with anger as I write the next sentence.

'The subject, however, shows no signs of mutual feelings. I can't figure him out and I wonder if I ever will.'

...

Author's Note: I don't have anything else to say. I want to leave you hanging.

Stay beautiful!


	7. Be Yourself

Each Day that week was exactly the same; go to school, stay with my 'friends', try to avoid any sort of communication with Gerard, try not to think about how my relationship with Gerard was completely destroyed, try not to bring any attention to the fact that I yearned for Gerard's acceptance...You get the idea. 'Try' being the operative word here: each and every attempt was thwarted by said boy, who never ever left my mind.

It rained on Friday as I walked home, and by the time I reached my house I was soaked through. My mother called out to me as I let myself in, and she sounded happier than usual.

"Hello Frankie Dear!"

"Uh...Hey Mom." I replied, slightly reserved. Entering the kitchen, my nostrils were ambushed by the overpowering smell of home cooking. My mum never cooked!

"Oh look at you! You look like a drowned rat! Here, have a cake I've baked, and get yourself out of those wet clothes!" She handed me a cupcake and fussed around, removing my coat and shoulder bag then placing them on the nearby radiator.

"How come you're in such a good mood?" I enquired as I took a bite of the cupcake. It was spongy and surprisingly tasty.

"Oh nothing much Love" She beamed. "It's just; your father got some news today at work. We're going to be staying here for the foreseeable future. We may not have to move for the next four years!" My face lit up at her news, and I looked even more ecstatic than her.  
Which was saying something!  
"Mum, that's brilliant news! Wow! Man, this is so awesome." Grinning, all the excited words fell out of my mouth. I pulled my mother in for a brief hug, then began to run up the stairs "Mum, I'm er...Meeting some friends at the arcade tonight. I need to go and get ready. Love You!" she just shook her head as she watched me ascend the staircase, muttering something about my 'ever-changing moods.' Pfft!

...

The feeling of "everything's going to turn out awesome! My life is going to be perfect! I'm so ridiculously happy!" had washed away as soon as I had reached the youth club doors. It had been replaced by dread. And not the 'I'm kind of worried about what's going to happen when I walk in here' type of dread. The sort of dread I was experiencing was closer to 'Ohfuckshitcrapadhfkjhgfd my stomach feels like every butterfly on the face of the earth has somehow managed to fit in there and fly around violently why can't the ground just swallow me whole and never ever return me to the surface of the planet ever again.'...Yeah. Not the best.

Pull yourself together Frank!

I entered the room and my sight instantly fell to Gerard. He was stood abnormally close to Lindsey, the rather 'forward' girl from last week.

Wow. That IS close. They probably hugged and then Gerard probably realised that he like-likes her while they were hugging and they're probably already really good friends probably something more I mean that's hardly surprising I mean they're both attractive well obviously Gerard more so because I'm gay and he's just Gerard, I mean LOOK at him-

Holy crap Frank. Shut up. Just go over.

I followed my own advice and made my way towards them both. Slowly. Left. Right. Left. Right. But I still felt my feet shake with nerves as I neared the two of them.

As soon as I reached close proximity, Gerard practically jumped away from Lindsey. I think he noticed how close he was. Because they were really, really close.

"Oooh..." Lindsey gawped as if she had just realised something important. Then she broke into a smug smirk, and looked at the both of us as if she was remembering some sort of private joke. "Oh-ho! I am not being the awkward third wheel in this dramatic reunion of star-crossed love birds." She raised her hands in mock innocence as she backed away towards Kitty and Patrick, pretending she was a rather sophisticated girl who had no time for our petty arguments.

Lindsey was good at diffusing situations. Maybe I should convince her to follow me around so she can get me out of any sticky predicaments I find myself in.

Gerard opened his mouth to speak, and threw the words out way too quickly.  
"Uh Frank. My Frankie, um, Please, um-"

Woah...I'm his, even though I was a complete and utter shitbag to him? That prompted me to interrupt him with my own, very necessary, apology.

"Gerard, Look, I was in the wrong. I was wrong for choosing those idiots over you and-"

He cut in "I was in the wrong for making you choose! And-"

"Gerard, Let me speak."

"Let me apolo-"

I grabbed his hands in an attempt to shut him up, and it sure as hell worked. I think I might have killed him by fright. He looked from our hands to my face and wore the same expression a deer in the headlights of a van might wear. I hope I wasn't too forward there. Probably was. Oh no. Oh well.

"Gerard, look here, dickhead. You did absolutely nothing wrong, I promise you. I-" I emphasized the pronoun. "Was in the wrong. I thought those guys were my friends. Of course, I mean, some of them I still like, but no, I was definitely wrong to choose anyone over you."

His cheeks flash red, and he looks away from me, to the floor. I hope I didn't make him cry. Jesus Frank, you try to apologize to and you him them cry. Well fucking done.

"And..." I continued, because there was something I was still in shock about.

His head snapped up and his deer-like expression returned.

Oh god, NOW I've made him cry.

I swallowed quickly before continuing.

"Before..."

I felt his hands clam up and become tenser.

"Uh," I began sheepishly. "Did you call me 'Your Frankie'?"

He giggled coyly, unsure of what to say. I just giggled back, because that response alone was a strong enough answer. I didn't need anything else. So I decided to thank him. For forgiving me when he really didn't have to, and probably shouldn't have.

I removed my hands from his and he looked down at them, trying to hide his obvious disappointment. Seizing my chance, I lifted myself to my tip-toes and pressed a small kiss to his right cheek. I felt his skin prickle with heat under my lips as he let another blush wash over his face. His breath hitched in slight shock at the situation, which I can hardly admit surprised me.

As I pulled away he stared at me intensely. I stared back and smirked suggestively before I allowed myself to get lost in his mesmerizing hazel orbs. In the background, I heard fangirlish giggles much like my own, but Gerard's eyes are much too distracting.

"So, uh, um," He began, "I like your shoes." His compliment temporarily pulled me back into the real world, and I chuckled as I rolled back onto my heel in order to display the whole shoe design. Misfits Converse. My favourite shoes. Cost me quite a bit, my own money saved for months- not that you could tell, I've worn them into a state of almost disrepair now. I looked back into his eyes once I regained a normal stance. "You hadn't even seen them" I smiled. Then I just returned to his eyes.

You see, Gerard's eyes are a whole other plane of existence. Their deep hazel is alluring enough from a distance, but it's when you get close that they become exquisite.

Some people's eyes are devoid of all emotion. The only inkling of feeling they convey is the action of crying, the show of uncontrollable emotion. Other than that, they are lifeless.

Not Gerard's. Gerard's eyes show even the tiniest hints of every single thing he feels. The way they sparkle when he smiles, or how they practically burn with fire when he's angry or annoyed. When he's nervous they dart around erratically and when he's scared or shocked the whites of them are so dazzlingly, well, white, you feel you should look away. But you can't, because they're so gripping. His eyes are the window to his soul and all his emotions. They're Amazing.

"They're beautiful"

Gerard voiced my last thought, and I frowned. How did he know what I was thinking? Wait, did he somehow know I'm talking, no, creating an internal monologue about his eyes? But then our previous conversation comes flooding back to me and I realise he's talking about my shoes.

Yeah, they're nice. But I've found something, someone, much much better than a pair of old converse.

...

'Time for circle time guys!" Shouted Brendon. I realised I hadn't been acquainted with Brendon today. To be honest, I hadn't even heard his sing-song voice...probably because of Gerard's eyes.

"Now!" He clasped his hands together. "This weeks topic is-The perfect relationship." I subconsciously glanced over at Gerard. He looked scared. I wanted to ruffle my hand through his hair, place a re-assuring hand upon his and calm his nerves. But of course, I didn't, as much as our new 'fans' would have liked it.

"Gerard, you go first." He offered politely. Gerard's expression changed from one of scared-ness to one of determination. I hope and wished that I would be able to pick out aspects of myself in his upcoming description. So I counted. I counted how many things may have related to me.

"I think...well, I want a relationship with...with someone who I understand. Not someone who I know everything about-"Can I count that? He doesn't know everything about me. I suppose it'll pass. Okay, one "-but someone who intrigues me. Inspires me. Uh, reads comics with me. I want him-uh, or her-" That's two. He almost forgot to mention the female race. Definitely two. "-enjoy being with me as much as I enjoy being with them. Uh, yeah. They have to have passion. Passion for something. Guitar." Three "-Or..Uh, anything. I just want to-"  
He paused for a breath, then looked at me. I acted pre-occupied, indifferent. But inside I was swelling, blushing with pride. It sounds stupid, but I was.

"I want to enjoy walks on the beach. Paint with him, -uh, or her." Four. "-and dance, even though I can't, with uh, the person, sing and play music and share long heartfelt embraces with-"

"Thank you, Gerard." Brendon interrupted. "Rather extensively detailed, but lovely nonetheless." Right then I wanted to throw something at Brendon's head. Gerard was pouring his heart and soul into talking, successfully engaging an audience with his speech, and all Brendon can say is 'too detailed'? Pfft.

But not even that could have dampened my mood. I felt Gerard's eyes watching me and I began to blush. I was so happy, so honoured, to be admired by this boy and he deserved to see my appreciation.

"Frank, your turn. Go for it." Brendon mentioned towards me.

I hoped it wasn't too sappy. I hoped Gerard didn't think I was some sort of pansy after what I was about to say.

"I want this guy to be..." No 'him, or her or him' problem for me. "I want him to be great. But he doesn't have to be cool. Uncool is great too. Uncool is greater than cool. Anyway, I want him to see me. Not just the small, passive-aggressive kid who plays guitar, but the me under all the dark clothing and good music...um...and I want him to just...be proud of me, and himself, and I don't want another shitty relationship with someone who's ashamed of who they are. And I want to just have fun. And have...Love. I want love. I want to be loved, to be in love..." I trailed off. As much as I had tried to keep my voice level stable during the past couple sentences, I knew the pleading had hinted. I could just tell my voice had practically been drenched in desperation. I hoped Gerard didn't think I was some weird bunny-boiler now.

Brendon thanked me and moved onto the next person's description, but I became distracted by Gerard's mouth really close to my ear, whispering. Probably too intimate for public.

"That was sweet man, it really was."

The pride began to swell again. So he wasn't put off by my hopeless desperation. That was always good.

"Your description sounded familiar." I retorted cheekily. "I mean that guy-or girl" I winked. "Must be real lucky. And real flattered."

"Uh, yeah. I hope that he-or she" He raised his eyebrow and giggled at his remark. "will uh, act on their flattery."

"If you're lucky." I flash him a grin as the session ends and I return my chair to its original position.

I was just about to leave when I heard a slightly frantic "Frank! Frank!" from behind me.

Slowly, I turned round. "Yes Gerard?" I asked, rather innocently.

"Uh, I was just wondering, do you have a cell phone?" He stuttered nervously.

"...Yes...I do." I pulled out an old Nokia from the pocket of my jeans. 'Smartphones' don't interest me. "Do you have a cell phone, Gerard?" I smirked playfully.

"I, well, yes, uh, I was thinking can we swap numbers? uh, if you don't mind, I mean-" I took his phone that he had just pulled out of his jacket from hands. It's not as old as mine, but it's nothing special. I keyed respective numbers into respective phones, set my caller name as 'Frankie xo' then handed the cell phone back.

"Thanks!" He beamed, almost fangirling. I chuckled lightly at his enthusiasm, then heard the distinctive noise of a cell phone taking a picture. I looked to Gerard and saw him holding a phone in my face. He retracted his arm very quickly, then turned the phone around. "Uh. Caller ID. Not that I'd have any trouble remembering your face or recognising you, uh, it's just everyone in my phone has a caller ID and it would look stupid if one person didn't."

The picture isn't that bad. It's me, laughing, with my face scrunched up a bit but I'm smiling. So I guess its okay. there's been better, but there's been much, much worse!

"You're weird. I like it." Is my parting comment to Gerard. I exchanged smiles with him once more, then made my way home. Gerard is slightly strange. But I like it a lot. I like him a lot. He's not everyone's definition of 'Normal' or 'Ordinary'.

But he's certainly my definition of 'Perfect.'

...


	8. Everyone Else Is Already Taken

As I sit in the dark corner of the youth club, all kitted out with art supplies and my name-tag, I begin to dread arriving so early. I did so to avoid the glaring eyes of Frank as I entered, but it just makes me look like a bit of a creep right now. Especially so in my all-black outfit, with a small, guilt-induced scowl on my face and a sketchbook with various illustrations of teachers, bullies, and general assholes dying in numerous and violent ways.

Girls creep past with expressions of "oh-mi-god-look-at-that-guy-lurking-in-the-corner-he-looks-fucking-creepy". And if you are unable to imagine what 'those' kind of looks are, try standing at a bus stop (at, of course, an absurdly early hour) in front of the locals and babbling to yourself in German. Or talking to someone who has already left. Or singing. Or dancing. Alone.

Anyway, whatever the circumstances, those are not the looks I am aiming to recieve.

Almost without realising, I begin singing to myself. (Cue the looks?) Nothing special, just the first thing that comes into my head.

"I would do anything and that's,  
What scares me so bad,  
Don't want to live my life alone,  
Don't want to go back to what I had.  
Don't want to spend my life without,  
All those special things,  
Don't want to walk around being tied to,  
Anyone else's,  
Strings, strings, strings, strings..."

"Blink 182!"

The statement knocks me off-guard, as I'm not particularly used to being listened to.

"Uh, yeah." I say, looking up to greet my fellow Blink fan, trying to surpress the urge to jump up and squeal at the fact that somebody has used one of the main excuses to 'avoid' me to actually 'acknowledge' me.

It's a girl, and a very pretty one too. She's dressed in a short, tight, tartan skirt, a plain work-style shirt, a black and red striped tie and a waistcoat decorated with studs and pins. I vaugely recollect her speaking out at the last meeting - and me being told her name - but who knows, I'm so bad with names it'll most likely be wrong. But still, I feel no sense of dread in the idea of talking to her.

"Oh, hey, then. Good taste." she beams at me, revealing rows of pure white teeth that contrast directly with her jet-black hair and punky outfit.

I smile weakly back at her and struggle to come up with a name to fit her face. Terry? Monica? Lisa? No, it 'has' to begin with a T. It just has to.

"Lindsey." she says, extending her hand to give me an awkward handshake. "Or are you more of a hugs kind of guy?"

Before I can respond she pulls me into a forced hug, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me down to her height. Her body feels warm against mine and I become aware of my lack of communication. Instentaneously, I decide I like her. Which is almost always a problem when meeting new people. I mean, if you meet someone you don't like, you can just walk away thinking "Oooh, I hate him!" but if you meet someone you like, like Lindsey here, or someone you may even come to love (naming no names - FRANK), you have to go to all the trouble of keeping in touch, meeting up, and trying to keep their interest. What a pain.

"Gerard." I say, finally responding verbally, painting my face with a true smile and rubbing her back gently.

It would be awful if Frank walked in right now, wouldn't it? Oh god. I should let her go now. Right now. Oh no. I don't want him to think "Oh look there's Gerard and he's moved on already. After like, four dull days of avoiding me he's found another spark in his life. Heartless bitch."

"Uhhhehhh..." I mumble, scrambling to let go, yet trying not to be to harsh. "Sorry. I'm not used to human contact."

I speak the truth. I'm really not into human contact. I mean, I like hugs, but...

Was that my first non-family hug?

Yes.

Wow! I should have a mind party right now. I'll set up the balloons, put on the hats-

Before I can fully fabricate my "mind party" I am distracted by a pair of dark eyes and a head of sleek brown hair.

Frank is here.

Uh, uh, oh, no.

What do I do? He's just there.

_Right there._

He's coming over and I can see his small feet shaking as he crosses the dusty wooden floor.

Shit, should I apologise? Or should I wait for him to apologise? Or neither? Or somehow both?

Fuck.

Seconds pass before I realise that I am, still, standing uncomfortably close to Lindsey.

"Uh," I start, but before I can finish, Frank has stumbled nervously into the conversation, offering the gift of unrecognisable mumbling.

Lindsey sneaks a glance between the two of us. Automatically a penny drops in her mind, so obvious that I'm surprised I can't hear it dropping.

"I am not being part of your star-crossed lovers scene!" she says, smiling discreetly and backing away.

I wave my hand loosely - seeing her off as she looks to direct her attention elsewhere.

Now, to Frank.

I concentrate all of my energy into mustering up a conversation started that isn't "oh-mi-god-I-love-you-kiss-me-right-now-or-we-can-go-back-to-mine-and-fuck-if-you-like".

"Uh, Frank. My Frankie, um, please, um, I was an idiot, and I think I've just-"

"Look, Gerard, I was in the wrong. I was in the wrong for choosing those losers over you and-"

"I was in the wrong for making you choose, and -"

"Gerard, let me sp-"

"Let me apolo-"

He shocks me out of my ramblings by grabbing my hands.

"Gerard, look here, dickhead." he says, without a hint of malice, looking directly into my eyes. "'I' was in the wrong. I thought those guys were my friends. And I mean, I still like some of them, but no, I was wrong to choose anyone over you."

My cheeks flush red, and I turn my gaze from his green-brown eyes and towards the hard wood floor. I'm flattered. So flattered that I could jump out of the window in shocked glee that someone has _chosen_ to be friends with me, but jeez, I hope I haven't done something wrong.

"And... Wait."

Shit, I have.

I've done something wrong.

I feel my heart plummet toward the floor in the silence as he collects his thoughts.

"Before..."

The tension builds, and I feel myself tense up like a sea anemone that's just been poked by an eager child.

"Did you call me ''your Frankie''?"

We begin to giggle together, until I glance sheepishly down at the hands gripping mine, and watch with self-pity as they fall away, only to be stunned into shock as I feel the unfamilar sensation of lips on cheek. Shit, he's kissing me. He's kissing me on the cheek. Oh, god. I feel my heart do a somersault in my chest, which is fucking weird as I myself can't handle gymnastics, so I am baffled a brainless organ within me doing better than I can...

Once he pulls away, I smile up at him, using my eyes to beg for another kiss, but the cheeky smirk he returns can only be taken as ''suggestive''.

I am pulled from my exchange of "suggestive" glances with Frank by a hoard of giggling strangers, seemingly fangirling over our situation. Glancing towards them, I realise that I kind of like it. I really, really do. I like being here, I like being here with 'him', and I like being out. It looks like the perfect, seemingly impossible, situation of being accepted by all has finally come, and it's my time to shine.

"So, uh, um," I start, wanting to strike up a passionate conversation to distract myself from wanting to press Frankie up against a wall and kiss him until our mouths dried. "I like your shoes."

Frankie chuckles, and -oh shit I'm calling him Frankie again- and takes a peak at his (liked) shoes.

"You haven't even seen them." he says in his weirdly manly voice for such a small thing, and looking directly in my eyes. Ahhh, I feel my heart melt, which is a surprise as just minutes ago I believed it was going to plummet through the floorboards and into whatever the fuck they keep in the cellar of the youth club.

Deliberately and exaggeratedly, I look down at his shoes and recoil in sheer wonder at their apparent beauty. They are pretty nice, to be honest. Misfits shoes. Good taste reflected in shoes. Ain't it just the best?

Jealously seeps into my bloodstream as I realise how good he looks tonight. I don't know what it is, but somehow, despite the fact that layer upon layer of dark clothing is layered upon his small body, he seems to be oozing colour. Just, everything. From every pore of his body, just colour. Simple, but beautiful. And he's glowing. Something about his smile is causing bright, pure light to penetrate me, and I feel so alive. He's fucking _glowing_. Obviously, it's not literal, and maybe no-one else can see it, but I can. I've found the colour in a colourless person.

And it feels wonderful.

Something in my mind is almost forcing the words to spill from my mouth to be liberated in the cool air, but I ignore it. Not in a denial way, just in a way that doesn't draw attention to my "artistic ramblings" (as they have once been named).

"They're beautiful." I say whole-heartedly, trying as hard as I possibly can not to add "Just like you."

The rest of the night passes quickly, the subtle flirting, passionate discussions (about brothers and shoes, music and art, penguins and badgers -whatever) and the awkward socialization blending into an unremarkable string of events. Well, I say unremarkable, but I enjoy it. I enjoy every moment I can spend with Frank, no matter what we do.

Anyway, yet again, Brendon's sing-song voice rings through the small room, demanding another "circle time". This time, I don't moan or groan, but look forward to it. Kind of. I mean, it's still shit scary having to talk infront of people, but I'm not dreading it. I feel... Comfortable.

Well, until, that is, Brendon announces the topic- "Our Perfect Relationship."

I hope I'm not first. Shit. I know what'll happen. I'll describe Frank. I'll describe him _precisely_.

And he'll laugh, won't he? Loudly. He'll open up his gorgeous little mouth and he'll fucking _laugh_.

Brendon's floaty voice pulls me from my fantasy with the very offer I have been dreading.

"Gerard, you go first."

It doesn't sound like a demand, but an invitation. Pushing all of the nervousness to the back of my mind, I seize the oppurtunity. I take it and grab it with both hands. I'm not going to lie about this. Breathe, stay calm. I'm not going to lie, and I'm going to describe my perfect relationship. I'm going to describe everything about him, and about what I want us to be. Now, I'm going to do it.

"Well, uh, Brendon," I say, testing the water, and discovering that I kinda like having a voice. Being listened to. "I think... Well, I want a relationship with... With someone who I understand. Not someone who I know everything about, but someone that intrigues me. Inspires me. Uh, reads comics with me. Who'll listen to music with me. I want him -uh, or her- to enjoy being with me as much as I enjoy being with them. Uh, yeah. They have to have passion. Passion for something. Guitar or... Uh, anything. I just want to..."

I pause for a breath. God, it's hard to keep this up, but I'm loving it. Eeep, I wonder if Frank has noticed? I take a quick glance at him, but he doesn't seem to be bothered. He might know, but might've brushed it off. Maybe the kiss meant nothing to him? I mean, it was only lip to cheek, but it still means something. To _me_. Only me? No, I won't think like that, we have a chance. Don't we?

"I want to enjoy walks on the beach. Paint with him -uh, or her- and dance, even though I can't, with uh, the person, sing and play music and share long, heartfelt embraces with-"

"I think that's okay, Gerard," Brendon says in a slightly condescending manor (but in his somewhat womanly voice everything sounds sweet). "A little too detailed, but lovely nonetheless."

I do it again - I look straight at Frank, and his face has changed. Not physically, duh, he hasn't grown a 2nd nose or anything, but his expression is no longer indifference, but mild pride. I can see it in his blushing cheeks right now - he recognises himself in my description, surely? He must do. He can't not have noticed. Oh god, I'm over-thinking, aren't I?

"Right," Brendon says, motioning, with his small hands, towards Frank sitting next to me,"Your turn, Frank. Go for it."

"Uhm," he begins, his dark eyes wandering around the room, eager to observe the reactions of the other teens. "I want this guy to be... I want him to be great. I want him to see me. Not just the small, passive-agressive New Jersian who plays guitar, but the me under all the dark clothing and good music... Um... And I want him to just... Be proud of me, and himself, and I don't want to have another shitty relationship with someone who's ashamed of who they are. Uh, yeah. And I wanna just... Have fun with him. And have... Love. I want love. I want to be loved, to be in love..."

His deep voice trails off, and I fall in love with his statement. I know I sound cheesy, but he really is perfect. How is that even possible?

"Thanks, Frank, that was great." Brendon chirps, before I zone out of his ramblings and whisper to Frank.

"That was sweet, man, it really was."

He turns and smiles, squinting his eyes into mere slits, and replies quietly.

"Your description sounded familar. I mean that guy - _or girl_-" he winks. "- must be real lucky. And flattered." I suddenly become aware of his shallow breath in my ear, tickling. I like it, aswell. It feels good. Have you ever had that? When somebody is just breathing next to you, and you're just like "oohoohoo that tickles! Noo!". It's awesome. And it's happening right now. Oh shit, yeah, I'd better respond. _Wit,_ Gerard, _wit_. Say something. Something _funny_.

"Uh, yeah. I hope that he - or _she_-" I raise my eyebrows suggestively, giggling as he does the same, "-will, uh, act on their flattery."

"If you're lucky." he grins, with perfect timing as the group session ends and the chairs are suddenly eagerly being paraded across the room to their original placements.

I stack my chair cheerfully, becoming elated by the sense of Frank's glow and colour rubbing off onto me, and skipping a little on my way back. I feel good.

Really good.

"Frank! Frank!" I call, intercepting him as he attempts to leave quietly.

"Yes, Gerard?" he asks in a high, mocking voice, batting his short eyelashes at me.

"Uh, Frank, yes, Frank, give... No, can I have... Can I have your number? Please? I won't sell it or give it to strangers or anything..." I say, disregarding the voices in my head (not in a mad schizophrenic way, but genuinely just my consicence. I hope.) telling me to say "I love you! Marry me! And have my adopted babies!" and waving a hand at him gleefully.

His hand delves into the pocket of his dark jeans and brings out a small, thick nokia phone, as he suggests exchanging numbers.

I pull out my modest camera phone, toss it into his hand and recieve his phone in my other hand. Who knew I could juggle? (Nobody: I can't, but it sure feels like I can!) Frank gingerly fiddles with my phone, keying in the appropriate numbers as I do the same to his.

He hands my phone back and all I can think is - "Yes! Guess who got lucky? Me!" as I stare at the string of numbers under "Frankie xo" - the third contact on my list. (The other two are my brother and my mom...)

"Thanks!" I cheer, kind of fangirling over the fact I have his number. He's so much more than a number, obviously - he's Frankie: beautiful Frankie, colour-oozing, 'glowing' Frankie, yet still it means so much to me that I have some sort of ownership of those few numbers and it means so much that he's trusting me with the idea of contact at anytime - even drunk at two in the morning...

Looking at his laughing face, I have an epiphany. I grab my phone, set it to camera, and capture the moment. His smile is gorgeous, and I know that every time I see the picture I'll remember his jolly old giggle, and be reminded of his sheer perfection.

"Uh, sorry, yeah, um, I won't sell that to strangers, either. I shall simply use it for my, uh, own personal use." I say, only realising after the words leave my mouth how dirty they sound. "Uh, yeah, and everyone on my phone has caller ID... So it'd be weird if one person didn't, wouldn't it?"

Just like in the first circle time, my words don't quite flow perfectly - they flow as if you've turned the water on too hard and it's got you completely and utterly soaked when really all you wanted was to wash your hands.

"You're weird. I like it." he says as a substitute for "goodbye" or "goodnight". Which I think is awesome. I like it. Mental note - say bye in an interesting way next time.

As I leave the youth club, for only the second time, I feel something I haven't been able to feel in a long time. I feel comfortable. I feel like nothing can stop me. Nothing can stop me being Gerard. It's who I am, isn't it? It makes no sense to be anyone else! Why would I change for anyone? Well, aside from the fact that meeting Frank, very cheesily, may have changed me already - for the better and probably permanently.

It's crazy, how much someone can change you in a week. It's like he has, without realising, rubbed his perfection onto me, and I am reveling in the slice of perfection I have been served. And I'm going to keep reveling in it, because the more I do so, the more beautiful I become.

"I'll thank him," I say to myself as I leave the purple door of the youth club behind me, "I'll thank him in... My own special way."

And with that descision ringing in my ears- the descision to be myself and fuck the world- I become the person I've always wanted to be.


	9. Take Your Chances

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The shrill aggravating call of the alarm clock rang through my room. I sleepily lifted an arm and groped around on the bedside table until I found the 'snooze' button on the clock. The harsh beeping subsided and I was lift with precious silence. There wasn't much light creeping in from the cracks between the curtains, so I lifted my head up to see what time it was. The LED Display read '7:40PM'

7:40AM? Twenty to eight on a Saturday? I felt self-loathing creeping into my veins as I remembered I'd forgot to turn my school alarm off. Damn. I pulled my arm back into the sheets and desperately tried to curl up, to close my eyes tight, anything that would make me drift to sleep again. But it was no use. Once I was awake, there was no going back for at least 12 hours.

Groggily, and very redundantly, I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of my bed. I glared bleary eyed at the alarm for at least ten minutes, hoping my stare would cause something like spontaneous combustion to occur. If only! Then I would never have been awoken from my beautiful dream world…No prizes for guessing that Gerard was the one who was making my dream world beautiful. The dream I had was bizarre, to say the least: Me and Gerard were choosing outfits for Mikey's wedding reception because Gerard has asked me to be his date. Mikey was marrying the condom-wearing dog. And Gerard looked damned good in a dress.

As I finally gathered enough physical strength to push my feet against the floor and stand up, I focused my mental strength on completely dispelling the disturbing aspects of my dream from my sub-consciousness. Gerard, however, stayed on my mind. Our cute and ever-so-cliché exchange at the club yesterday has considerably improved my relationship with him, which I was extremely glad about. I was no longer feeling distinct pangs of guilt and dread in my chest every time someone so much as mentioned his name. Now, it was sort of, elation. I felt like I was actually on the right track with Gerard for once. And he had my number, which always helped things speed up a little bit.

That thought reminded me. Gerard had my number! But how long would it take for him to call me? I really, really wished that it wouldn't be long. I was beginning to miss his presence, which surprised me a lot: It was like he was a part of me, and every time he was gone from my side I could feel this constant little ache in my stomach that lasted from the second I lost sight of him, to the second our eyes locked after the brief absence.

Jesus, sometimes I even bore myself with these soppy monologues, so god knows how anyone else could bear listening to me ramble!

I padded over to the wardrobe and opened the doors. I only liked lazing in my pyjamas when I had sleepovers, due to the fact it usually made me feel unhygienic. Nothing like wallowing in dirt with your friends, eh? Rifling through the closet I sighed. Where were all the clothes I wanted to wear? Where were all my vaguely awesome T-shirts? All that resided in here was my numerous old pairs of jeans and every plain and boring T-shirt I owned. My guess to where they were was either in the spare room (we /still/ hadn't finished unpacking) or in the wash. The latter seemed more realistic since my mother had recently began to wash things obsessively.

After much deliberation, I settled on my misfits converse, some old black jeans that had been taken up slightly wonkily and a dark blue T-shirt with short sleeves. I ruffled my fingers through my hair and left it at that. My hair didn't usually need much attention in the morning, something I was very grateful for. Might seem a bit weird, a gay kid not fussing over his hair, but I suppose not everyone is the ridiculously camp, pink handbag-clad stereotype.

Trudging down the stairs and walking into the kitchen, I looked at the clock, and saw that I had wasted 20 minutes creating an internal monologue about Gerard and my lack of good clothes. Although it was morning, the house was eerily quiet: No snores rang through the upstairs floor and there wasn't even any noise coming wildlife in the garden. It was then I noticed a small white note on the kitchen worktop. I walked over to it, picked it and the scanned the writing. It read:

Dear Frank,

Your dad Slept at work last night, there was some paperwork he needed to finish that ended up delaying him. That's why there's no snoring! You're probably not going to see this note as I'll more than likely be back before you wake up, but I'm going to the market in town to try and get some good deals since it's early. You know me, ever the bargain hunter!

Love,

Mum xxx

I smiled fondly at the note. My mum was a /big/ bargain hunter, ever collecting coupons and finding the best deals. For some reason, she really enjoyed it. Personally, I preferred to order online then watch television until the shopping arrived, so I usually stayed at home when mum went to the shops.

My thoughts reminded me of the perfect way to waste time, and I walked into the living room to turn the television on. I pressed the ON button and the television whirred to life, displaying a shopping channel. The orange face and fake expressions of shock when the product /actually worked/ were so cheesy I couldn't help but laugh. Since we moved here I'd started watching them a lot: we only had basic channels at the last house, and I had no idea on how much corny advertising I'd been missing out on. Throwing myself onto the sofa, I became engrossed in an advert selling "The world's only cyclonic 3 in 1 Vacuum.''

Oh, Frank. What an exciting life you lead.

4 hours later, I had watched 8 half-hour commercials in total: selling things from jewellery to exercise machines to paint to kitchen cutlery. There's only so much tungsten lighting and aggravating voices I can take in one sitting, so now I'd gone back to worrying about whether Gerard would call me or not. If I'm honest, I don't even remember who instigated the number exchange: Most of the night is blurred due to the adrenaline and nerves. All I /do/ remember is our thinly veiled descriptions of eachother during the ''Perfect Relationship'' circle time, me kissing his goddamned cheek, and his apparent interest in my shoes while I maintained interest in his eyes. A shade of pink rose to my cheeks as the rest of the night slowly and patchily returned to my memory. I was just blushing at the thought of Gerard flirtily whispering in my ear during the designated circle time, when my phone rang in my pocket. I was too busy thinking about my last rendezvous with the boy with the jet black hair to actually process the thought of /who the call was most likely from/, that I didn't even check the Caller ID. I held the phone up to my ear and called a distant ''Hello?''

''Frank, have you just woken up?'' Gerard's voice radiated from the phone, his question accompanied by giggles.

Shit! I was that encapsulated by him and his stupid, distracting, but totally /not/ stupid eyes to the extent that I sounded half asleep. That I sounded all dreamy-like! I decided the best way for this to pan out would be for me to pretend that I had actually had just woken up, Instead of a mumbled explanation about how much he distracts me from my life in general.

''Yeah, Gerard, I was wondering when you'd call.'' I teased; hoping to make him blush in efforts to make me feel like the slight embarrassment wasn't all one sided. I was smiling too, even though he couldn't see me.

"Sorry, so how are you? You sound tired.'' He asked.

'' I was up all night writing a killer riff down.'' I said with a hint of nonchalance. It was intended for Gerard to hear. He was on my mind all day and night before I went to sleep yesterday, which probably explains why him and his family were prominent in my dreams.

''Oh? I'd like to hear you play-'' Gerard began to speak and I was about to reply by telling him that it would be a privilege to perform for him, when an unknown voice cut us both off.

''What?!'' It shouted in disbelief. ''He plays Guitar?''

Whoa. Gerard is with people? As in, not family people? It certainly doesn't sound like Mikey's voice, which I've only ever heard through the phone. But that was when the phone was pressed to Gerard's ear. Maybe his voice sounds different when you're the one holding the cell. I hope so. I felt little pangs in my chest, pangs of jealousy and paranoia. I almost gave into the doubt too, but then I cast the silly, weak feeling aside when I thought of how he'd reacted towards the showdown with my 'friends'. Of how he may have been angry in the very short term, but straight after that he was unnecessarily understanding, apologetic when he seriously didn't need to be. Gerard could deal with my (Mostly) Dickhead friends. Could I deal with his (Potentially) nice friends?

''Uh, who's that in the background?'' I asked while doing a terrible job of hiding my paranoia.

''Uh. It's my friend, Ray. Oh god, yeah! It's my friend! I have a friend!'' I could hear his goddamned smile down the phone; practically feel the warmth radiating from that gorgeous grin.

''But I'm your friend.'' I said in a low, spiteful tone. I didn't mean for it to come out like that…I'm just not good at masking my emotions.

''I know, Frank! But he's also awesome.'' He started to whisper. "But he's not /you/, is he?'' As Gerard Spoke, I felt an unmistakeable drop in my stomach. The way Gerard singled me out, the way he whispered so only I could hear…Jeez, My stomach feels like I'm sky diving right now. I opened my mouth to try and speak, but no noise was emitted. Gerard Way has rendered me speechless. I gulped, my throat feeling kinda dry.

''So, why the fuck did you call me before noon?'' Again, I tried with the faux nonchalance option. I figured if I asked anything that involved me using genuine emotions. I'd fangirl about what just happened until I'd passed out from exhaustion.

"I thought we could all have lunch together! And we can go to the park or something!" He suggested.

Ray joined in. "Yeah! There's this pretty cool café that my sister owns, and I doubt you guys have been there because it's pretty well hidden and-''

"Yeah, Okay Ray.'' Gerard interrupted, sounding excited.

I wasn't really bothered about what we did, just as long as I got to see Gerard in person today. Calls are nice and all, but face to face conversation is just so much better.

''Sounds good, but one question: how are we all going to get there?'' I asked, slightly puzzled.

''I can find you.'' Ray called down the phone.

''Okay, I'll give you my address now.'' I almost had to go outside to check the house number because I'm still not really used to the new house address details. ''Right, so, see you guys in 20? I need to change.'' I revealed. There's no way I'm meeting Gerard while wearing jeans with wonky hems.

''I can get there in 5, come in your boxers, I'm sure Gerard would love that!'' Ray said happily, laughing in a slightly evil way.

"Oi, Ray, you can-''

''See you in 10, go dress!'' He shouted. Then, the line cut dead, terminated from Gerard and Ray's side.

I left my phone on the coffee table and ran to the tumble dryer in hopes that there would be some appropriate jeans in there. After pulling out most of the contents, I decided on some evenly hemmed grey skinnies. I headed upstairs to change hoping Gerard and Ray wouldn't barge in unexpected.

Well, Ray Anyways…

I sat on the sofa, watching the window, waiting for them to arrive. The television was safely off: I didn't want them thinking I was some weird forever alone kid that sat watching the shopping channels all day. As soon as that thought had evaporated, I saw two figures approaching the house. Gerard was sporting a leather jacket that clung rather nicely to him, and Ray had one hell of a fro. They both had band T-shirts on, but I couldn't see what bands they were from this distance.

I sprung, (rather camply I will admit) to the front door and flung it open excitedly like a little school kid. ''Hello Guys!'' I grinned cheesily.

''Hey.'' Gerard Smiled. He stepped forward for a hug before a slightly concerned look flashed across his face. I assumed he was thinking about the whole awkward Lindsey-club-hug thing, but I went in for a hug anyway.

Any Excuse, eh Frank?

''Hey there.'' I nodded to Ray with my head. I was not letting go of Gerard this quickly. Then I noticed the band T-shirts from before. I released Gerard and gestured towards Ray, with my hand this time.

''Iron Maiden?'' I asked, one eyebrow raised.

''Yes.''

I looked to Gerard. ''Joy Division?''

''Yeah.''

'' Cool Man, they're like one of my favourites.'' I stopped dead, hit by a sudden thought. ''Wait a sec-'' I slammed the door behind me and darted back to the kitchen. Rifling through the clothes pile I pulled out from the dryer, I found one of my less tattered band T-shirts – A 'Smashing Pumpkins' top. I swapped shirts quickly, grabbed my blue hoodie that was hung up in the hall before exiting the house again.

''Sorry about that guys, I felt kinda left out…'' I began, but Ray cut me off.

''Guys, lets go!''

We headed to Ray's old but pretty damn awesome car, destination his sister's café.

We were sat at the window of the café, staring down at the hand written menus while Ray looked around, slightly bored of waiting for us. The café sort of looked like a collection of every bric-a-brac section of every charity shop in New Jersey, sort of smushed together. There was stuff absolutely everywhere, but it just added to the undeniable charm of the place.

''So, what do you want?'' Ray asked, deciding we'd had enough time to choose our order.

''Caramel Latte.''

Both Gerard and I voiced the same order at the same time. Our eyes locked and we began to laugh at the strange coincidence. Ray also seemed to find it as funny as us.

''Oh, guys, you have /got/ to do that when my sister comes round.' Ray clasped his hands together, as if it were some sort of evil plan.

''Hell Yeah!'' I grinned happily while Gerard emitted a small ''Er, possibly…' I raised one eyebrow and looked at him. He seemed seriously nervous, so I shot him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. He seemed okay after that.

''NATALIE!'' Ray shouted, starling me slightly although I didn't show it. I looked away from Gerard and to the girl who apparated from nowhere. She held a brown notepad and pen, and she was all smiles which was unusual for a waitress in New Jersey.

"What would you all like?'' She asked. Still smiling brightly.

"Well, I'd like a- wait a second, you two go first' you gotta see this Nat!'' Ray looked way, way too happy with himself. I looked at Gerard again, and he turned to face me as well. I grinned and raised my eyebrows as the 'go' signal.

"Caramel-"

"Caramel La-"

"Latte"

"Latte-Caramel Latte."

We began to both laugh at the slightly unsuccessful attempt. I looked at Natalie. She was smirking, as if she knew the same private joke Lindsey knew at the club the other day.

"Okay! And you, my itty bitty little brother?"

"You know what I want.'' Ray sounded strangely threatening when he was assertive.

"Got it." She flashed her cheery smile again and headed back behind the counter.

"So." Ray Began. "Did you hear about the party at Jasmine Sickle's house?''

"No…" I replied, trying to act normal. I knew about it though. I was invited by Shaun, and the only way I could shake him off about asking whether I was going or not was to tell him I was visiting my sick grandma out of town. He even offered to buy me flowers to give to her! I felt kind of traitorous talking about the party. What if Gerard wasn't happy about it, and took offence somehow? I don't know why he would: I'd chosen meeting him at the club over going to the party and I'm damn glad I did, but I still didn't feel comfortable talking about the jocks around Gerard. For obvious reasons.

"Well, it's a jock hotspot." I hoped the unintentional wince I made wasn't noticed when Ray spoke. "Believe me/ Jasmine's my brother's friend-he's younger than me by a year- and she always throws these crazy-ass parties at this time of the year. Anyway, well, I got dragged there by Eric and all his dumb friends-'' Yet another reason why I was glassed I missed the occasion. What would Ray have thought of me then? "-And there was more sportswear than I have literally ever seen in my life."

"Wow…Sportswear…" I whispered sarcastically. When in doubt or feeling awkward, resort to sarcasm. It's failsafe.

"Dirty details, no?" I asked, laughing.

"I don't know about dirty, but there was this nerdy guy-poor thing- getting all excited at his first party.-I think he was actually in our year Gee!- and he just went mad and had four vodka shots in 10 minutes."

"Aaaaand?" Gerard asked, leaning over the table, completely engrossed.

"Puke. Everywhere."

Gerard's reaction is a sympathetic 'oooh.'' But mine is a more smug ''Oh man, that's nasty.''

"I think Mikey was there, actually. When was it?" Gerard had connections (albeit not directly) to the party as well? That made me feel a little better about my invite. Maybe he wouldn't even be that bothered.

"Last night. And who's Mikey?" Ray questioned.

"My little brother. He's awkward." Gerard commented offhandedly, although his expression looked sort of begrudged. Ray raised an eyebrow at Gerard. "Okay, he's cooler than me, alright!'' He sighed, throwing his hands up in annoyance. Ray and I began to laugh. I decided it wouldn't hurt to tell Gerard about the invite. Hopefully he wouldn't clam up at the mention of it.

"I have to admit, I was invited to that party.'' I said quietly, after clearing my throat apprehensively.

"I'm impressed!" Gerard teased, winking.

Oh, thank god he was okay with it!

I tried to stop my face breaking into a giant grin, and succeeded for the most part.

"But, you know, my Friday nights are reserved for someone special."…Did I really just say that? In front of Ray? In a tone /that/ suggestive? Gerard's cheeks burned pink. His reaction caused the supressed grin to emerge and I smiled at him cheekily.

"I can feel it!" Ray exclaimed suddenly, grinning more than me.

"Feel what?" I raised an eyebrow, bemused.

"The chemistry!" Ray said enthusiastically. My eyebrow stayed in its raised position, and Gerard looked just as lost as me. "Between you two!" He gestured to us both, grinning still.

Gerard's blush intensified. I didn't blush, I just placed my hand on his shoulder and squeezed, hoping that it was slightly reassuring. Gerard's phone began to ring and he hastily fumbled around, trying to extract it from his pocket. Ray couldn't see, but I noticed the caller ID – Mikey.

"Speak of the devil.'' Gerard commented, getting up and walking outside of the café to get a better signal. He turned before leaving and mouthed an apology to us both, although it was unneeded.

I looked to Ray. He was sat, relaxed, looking at me like he knew I was about to ask him something. I cleared my throat then rested my clasped hands on the table, looking down at them.

"So, uh…" I began. I wanted to ask him what had been bugging me practically all day: was there anything going on between him and Gerard? I hadn't known the right time to ask Ray, alone, about it, but now Gerard was having a conversation of his own the timing seemed pretty apt. "Uh, You, and Gerard…" My eyes darted to aforementioned boy. He was visible through the glass panes in the door, and he looked rather frantic. I turned my attention back to Ray.

"No." Was his simple reply to my unspoken question.

"Uh, I'm sorry, what?" I asked, confused. I hadn't even asked him yet. How did he have a reply?

"The answer. To what you're thinking. That question. The answer is no." He smiled genuinely.

"Ah, Man!" I exclaimed happily. "Really?"

"Really. I wouldn't dream on intruding on what you guys have. Or, are at least beginning to develop." He looked at me with a smirk plastered across his face. The third person sharing this obviously hilarious inside joke at the expense of two teenage boys.

"Ah, well, that's really good then." My smile stretched from ear to ear. That's seriously awesome." While I was sat there, fidgeting in my seat, barely able to contain my happiness at the fact that / I haven't lost my chance/, our topic of conversation walked in. Well, our topic of mental conversation, it seems.

"So, what've you two been doing while I've been gone? From the looks of it, you've pleased Frank." Gerard said with a suggestive undertone to his voice.

"We were just talking Gerard! I swear!" I held my hands up melodramatically. I've got license to joke like that now, because I know there's nothing between anyone except for me and Gerard. Possibly. Maybe.

Ray was still doing the 'inside-joke-smirk'. He stood up and announced that he was going to find his sister. "I have no idea how she does it, but sometimes she gets /lost. Within the kitchen/. She might have broken the coffee machine though. I'll go check." He scurried off and I was left sitting next to a boy who seemed to be in very deep philosophical thought.

"Thinking?" I asked, still hyped from mine and Ray's exchange. I wanted to double check with Gerard though. Best to ask both parties concerned.

"Gerard…" I became rather solemn. "Is there…no, can I ask you a question?" I'm more nervous asking Gerard. /Way/ more nervous. Because if I messed up asking Ray, we could have laughed it off, and it could have been a running joke further down the line. But with the Boy With The Jet Black Hair, I don't want to offend him. Or hurt him. Anything Negative in fact.

"Anything." Gerard Replied.

"There isn't anything going on between you and Ray, is there?"

His face twists in shock. "Oh! No! No Way!"

"No 'Friends with benefits'?" I had to sit on my hands to stop me gesturing quotation marks as I said the phrase. I think I might have frowned when I said it, too. I hate even the thought of a 'friends with benefits' Relationship. So many unrequited feelings. So much confusion and complication. Ugh. Been there, done that, endured the heartbreak. I stopped myself, and began talking again. "I asked Ray, and he gave me a simple answer. Well, actually I didn't even ask him, He just gave me the answer. And the /question/as well, actually. Anyway, it's best to check, isn't it? I mean, what if-"

"No Frankie, there's nothing going on. I'm not into 'friends with benefits.' I mean, either you're in a relationship or you're not." He inhaled after speaking, as if he was trying to abstain from talking more.

He had the same stance as me on 'Friends with Benefits'. That's good. At least I know where we stand on that front.

"Phew." I sighed melodramatically again, whole body sagging, and I threw and arm around his shoulder. I whispered into his ear. "I thought I might've missed my chance…" Because it's true. I haven't missed my chance, but I thought I was pretty close to it. I might not have seemed it, but I was terrified. Gerard Slowly rotated his neck round to face me. I felt stands of kind-of-greasy hair brush against my own face. I felt his breath each time he exhaled, and it smelt faintly of coffee.

And his eyes. I felt them, staring into my core through my pupils. Gerard's eyes from far away were beautiful. But close up-Real close, mere centimetres of distance- they were /exquisite/, Looking into them was like peering at a whole other galaxy through a telescope. There were hazes of dark brown, flashes of mahogany. They were so enticing I just had to be closer to them. I inched forwards, parting my lips.

"No! Natalie, NO!" Ray Practically shrieked as Natalie interrupted mine and Gerard's 'moment' by placing our orders on the table. "Nataliee." He wailed, before his moping turned to anger. "They were just about to kiss!" He sat opposite me, frowning.

"Oh, God, guys I'm so sorry, I'm oblivious to everything, oh man I'm sorry, I'll leave you now." She scuttled away, face beetroot red before I could tell her she didn't need to apologize.

"Stupid Natalie." Ray whined again, although I think it was more just to him alone than anyone else.

I looked to Gerard. He had grasped his latte with both hands and was staring into it intently, face just as red as Natalie's. The shade of my cheeks probably contributed a third number to that headcount. I took my arm away from his shoulder. Electricity felt like it was fizzing through my veins. Staring into his eyes had just been…Trance-like, dreamy, but now the moment was broken I felt alive. Like the adrenaline could burst out of my veins at any second.

I haven't missed my chance.

I looked to Ray.

I haven't missed my chance.

I looked to Gerard.

I haven't missed my chance.

I grinned.

On the contrary: I had a very, very big chance indeed.


	10. Take Your Chances 2

I wake up, fully clothed, in my bed, with the sun streaming in through the blinds, to that irritating buzzy noise phone vibrations make when you get a message. But still, I refuse to let it get me down. The elated feeling from yesterday at the club has not left my heart and my mind. My progress with Frank and newly discovered confidence are keeping me awake and alive, so I embrace the annoying, unfamiliar noise. I never get texts, unless they're from Mikey who can't be bothered to fetch the Nutella or something from the other room and wants me to do it instead. So who can this be? Surely no-one would be so eager to text at - I turn to look at the dull face of the clock - 11 o'clock. Wait, 11? I'm not sure if that's early or late for me. Anyway, yeah, to this text.

'Number - Unknown

Recieved 10:59 am '

I fiddle past the pointless time and date details in favour of checking the actual message.

"Call 4 sex?"

What? Call for sex? Sex?

I reply immediately - I am, after all, in a very curious situation - with a simple '"WHAT?"'

Stretching, I leap out of bed to stare out of the window at the drab city streets, but something has changed. Rather than look straight towards the smashed glass, "drug deal" corner, or even the dingy old bus stop where weird-os like to sleep, I am greeted by the welcoming sight of a bird. A beautiful bird. I mean, I can't tell what type of bird it is (at all), but it's making me happy nevertheless.

Bzzt! My phone buzzes again. Oh god.

"Dude (or chick) your phone number is in the school bathroom written under 'ANYONE CALL FOR SEX'."

Again, I am quick with a reply-

"Oh, cheesus. OK. I'm nt gunna have sex with u."

Gosh, okay, someone has taken my number of someone's contacts and written it out for all to see. I can picture it now, scrawled in permanent marker upon the yellowing (once white) tiles of the bathroom stalls.

Shit.

Buzz!

"Shame. Was looking forward to it. & did you just say cheesus? ;D"

I laugh - I have to! It's so funny. Maybe I can make a friend out of this?

"So, who are you? :-)"

I feel I might be pushing it a bit with the smiley face, but I let it send.

Before I can even think of a plan for the day I get an incoming call. It must be the mystery texter. I'm going to answer it. I hope it isn't some freak-ish, homophobic jock playing a joke on me.

"Hello?"

Oh god.

I know that voice, don't I? Oh gosh, it's the high pitched voice of the curly haired guitar player.

"Ray?!"

"Gerard," Ray's usually emotive voice rings in my ears without even a hint of any surprise he may feel hearing my voice on a 'sex line', "Do you make a habit of getting the hopes of young, innocent boys' up?"

"I do, I'm afraid." I reply, with a suggestive undertone to my voice.

"Anyway, I now rescind the sex offer." he says, equally as suggestive as my statement.

I like this guy.

"Uh, yeah," I mutter, the awkward Gerard coming out again. "So..."

"Do you want to come round to mine today?" his friendly tone and random offer catch me completely off-guard. I mean, I like him, and he's my friend (I hope!), but do I really want to go round to his house? Today? When I could be off... Doing homework or... Drinking. I make a rash decision.

"Yes!" I say, the enthusiasm I thought I had lost becoming evident in my voice.

"Okay. Coming to pick you up. Where do you live? No, wait, I'll ask my mom."

"Your mom?" I ask, surprised.

"Yes," he replies nonchalantly, "She knows everyone."

"Everyone?" I ask doubtfully.

"Yes."

I hear the background mumbles of my address as I pick at my dirty clothing, and stare out at the bird. It's still there, you know. Like a speck of clean hope on the stained washcloth of life.

"Coming over. Be there in ten. Bye!"

Before I can respond, psychic Ray (that shall be his new name) has hung up and I assume is rushing to his car with my address scrawled on his arm or something.

"Oh crap, I can't go out in these!" I say aloud, glancing down at my stained t-shirt and off coloured skinny jeans. "I'm going to have to change."

I sigh, rifling through my drawers to find something that won't make me look like a complete dick in front of my new friend. Not that that will matter, anyway, as I am the new confident Gerard - people should like me whatever I wear, right?

However, no matter how confident I now am, I do not want to smell like shit. Time for the final resort.

"Mikeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee y!" I yell, rushing into his room. It smells of tar and beer, and am I momentarily taken aback by the filth of the room, but I step cautiously in. He's in bed, only just awake, blinking in the bright sun of the morning.

"What do you want, Gee?" he asks sharply, softening the blow with a smile.

"Umm..." I fiddle with one of the wonky posters the wall of his small room. I love the feel of poster paper. It's weird. Glossy.

Suddenly, I am hit with belated nostalgia and remember that I have Frank's number. In my phone. With a picture. Oh, god.

Quickly my face is transformed as an unstoppable, wide smile contorts my features.

"Gerard, what?" Mikey snaps, bringing my back down to earth.

"Can I borrow some of your clothes?" I gingerly ask.

"Yes, yeah, go ahead. The mould hasn't spread to the closet, I swear." he laughs, deep and throaty.

I step cautiously over the mess on his floor and pull open the doors of his closet, eyeing up the pile of black clothes inside. I pick up a slightly creased Joy Division t-shirt and a pair of loose jeans ( I won't fit his - not only is he younger than me, but taller and a lot skinnier) and leave quickly, muttering a "good morning" as the door clicks behind me.

I run to the bathroom - the coldest room in the whole house - and change quickly in the arctic temperatures. I stand there for a while, in Mikey's clothes, wondering and waiting for Ray to call and ask where the fuck my house is. Surely he can't find it first time. No-one can find this house first time. Not that I have many visitors...

Ping!

"I'll get it!" I yell happily, stopping to remove the very camera-phone with Frank's number entered in from my old jeans to put it in my shallow pockets. Cheerily, I fling the door open and I am greeted by the curly-haired psychic himself. He looks good, dressed in flared jeans (like a cowboy!) with an Iron Maiden shirt covering his torso.

He smiles, " Heya, solitary Gerard. Not so solitary today, eh?"

"It seems not!" I say, in a mock English accent. I don't even know why. It just seems fun. And it is. "Well, Jeeves, let's go."

"Uh, yeah." he mumbles, leading my down my own driveway to his small, rusty, blue car. I stare at it for a while before I realise that it's my first time ever in someone else's car.

I step into the front seat (riding shotgun!) and settle there. It's lovely, Ray's car has this amazing rustic smell of dough and metal. I instantly like it. The seats are worn and torn, but it doesn't look skanky or badly looked after - it looks like it's been used. Used properly. Not just for groceries or trips, but for going out on long drives, blasting music, for taking friends to parties and for partying in.

I doubt Ray was ever, or will ever be, the one partying in the car, but his smile as he sits down proudly in the driver's seat tells me that he loves it all the same.

"So, you can drive?" I ask, curious as to when and where he learned. I should probably learn to drive soon. But I quite like a good walk...

"No." he smiles kicking the engine into life with the turn of a key.

We arrive at his house as I stare in wonder at its beauty. It really is lovely. It's painted a blue-ish white colour and has a weaving, inter-twining ivy plant creeping up one of the sides. I can feel Ray parking the car and undo my seatbelt, looking up at him through my dark hair.

"C'mon, Gerard, let's go."

I'm not sure where in the house we're going to, but I oblige. He drags me through the bungalow - I spot many family pictures and paintings littering the yellow walls and decide that I like Ray's house. It's calming.

We come to a stop outside a dark door, while he twiddles the lock and drags me into a small room with dark blue walls.

However, the blue walls aren't the first thing you notice. Then first thing you notice in the room, out of everything, is that it is full of guitars. There are guitars everywhere. Guitars on the walls, guitars on the carpets and strewn in random areas on the floor, behind bookshelves and in every crevice and cranny. The room isn't untidy by any means - it's actually tidier than any room in my house, but it's just so lively.

"Sit, Gee, come join me." Ray suggests, sitting on the bed and motioning towards me with one hand and pulling a pair of video game controllers out from under his pillow with the other.

Oh my gosh, he calls me "Gee". That means we're friends, right? Oh my god, that's so cool! We could-

Wait, why the fuck does this guy keep game controllers under his pillow?

I kick myself (mentally) out of my daydream and back into real life to awkwardly join my curly haired friend as he sits on his comfortable bed. It's nice, but I sit down cautiously nevertheless.

"Do you play?" he asks tentatively.

"Uh, no." I say, regretting the fact that I can't play video games to save my video game life. I feel so bad for Ray that I add an enthusiastic "But I will for you!" onto the end.

"Hey, man, never mind. I'll teach you one day, but I can tell you're not in the mood-" CAN THIS GUY READ MINDS? Oh, yes, he can. I remember the lesson now. "-so how about we talk? Wait a sec, you'll love this..."

He reaches down under his bed and pulls out a large, worn guitar case. My expression turns to one of puzzlement as he opens the case. What am I so interested in, again?

"Here." he pulls out a classic acoustic guitar with names squiggled over it. It looks perfectly regular, but -shit- when I look closer I can see the names.

"You've got a guitar signed by the Beatles?" I ask incredulously.

"Yeah, my mom's a big fan and she went to show back in the day... It's like a family heirloom..."

"Oh god, that is awesome!"

"Too right!"

I let the silence ring in our ears as the conversation dies -neither of us feeling the necessity to talk after the huge tangent Ray just went on.

"So," he starts, looking me directly in the eyes, after putting the guitar safely away, "How're you doing?"

That simple question gets me off guard. Nobody really asks how you're doing. Not even if they know you really well, usually they just assume the way you feel on your actions and the like, but no, apparently psychic Ray can't even tell. "Great, actually," I reveal truthfully, "What about you?"

"Well, as always. Content. Psychic."

Obviously!

"So, how is it going with... um... You never told me his name... The guy. The one who has captured your heart!" he teases with a comical edge, but serious eyes.

"I have his number!" I cheer, possessing a smile.

"Please tell me you've called him." Ray says, his eyes wide.

"I only got his number yesterday, Ray..." I reply, blushing.

"Yesterday! That was yesterday! You have to call him! He'll be all like 'Oh! My Gerard, he won't call me, whyyyyyy! WHYYYY! Does he not want to marry me and have my adopted babies'?" Ray giggles theatrically, grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me.

"Haha, what are you, crazy? I'm not calling him. Not yet, it'll seem clingy." I stutter, trying to make an excuse for my nervousness, while clutching the phone in my pocket.

Ray sees.

He grins, bearing his straight teeth and widening his eyes. He lunges, grabbing for my hands and ending up pushing me over. "OOF! Ray! Get off of me!" I wheeze, giggling as his hair tickled my face.

"Call him, fool, or I'll tickle you!" He threatens.

"Neverrrr!" I laugh, as he starts tickling my sides, grinning whilst I squirm and squeal. "FUCK! Ray, I'm gunna pee! Okay, FINE I'll call him if you stop fucking killing me!" I manage choke out.

Ray lets go of me and helps me up, and I retrieve the sacred phone with the sacred number in from my pocket, giving Ray a death glare, and as the dial tone rings in my ears I realise that I will be talking to Frank if he picks up. It's making me nervous! What if-

"Uuhh, Hello?" Frank's voice calls after a few moments, and just hearing his voice is easing my nerves significantly.

"Frank, have you just woken up?" I ask, giggling: my breathing a little heavy after the tickle-fight with Ray. Frank's voice sounds rough and raw.

"Yeah, Gerard, I was wondering when you'd call." He says, teasing me, and I hear a smile in his voice, god, is he trying to kill me? He sounds so good over the phone, especially when he's just woken up. I assume. I've never really heard him over the phone in any other situation...

"Sorry, so, how are you? You sound tired." I question, wanting to hear him speak again.

"I was up all night getting a killer riff down." he admits, clearing his throat.

"Oh? I'd like to hear you play..." I state dreamily.

"What!? He plays guitar?" Ray calls from across the room. I ignore him.

"Wait, who's that in the background?!" Frank asks, his voice bearing a little paranoia.

"Uh, it's my friend, Ray. Oh god, yeah! It's my friend! I have a friend!" I beam down the phone, wondering if Frank can hear my smile.

"But I'm your friend!" he says spitefully.

"I know, Frank! But he's also awesome," I begin whispering, "But he's not you, is he?"

After a few awkward seconds after my mildly sexual whisper, Frank decides to break the silence with a very blunt question.

"So, why the fuck did you call me before noon?"

I have no idea why I have called him at this specific time... So, I improvise.

"I thought we could all have lunch together!"

I feel Ray react by my side, but he doesn't complain, so I keep going.

"And we can go to the park or something!" I suggest enthusiastically. God, I'm embarrassing.

Ray joins in, practically yelling down the phone: "Yeah! There's this pretty cool cafe that my sister owns, and I doubt you guys have been there because it's pretty well hidden and-"

"Yes, Ray, okay!" I interrupt, flattered by his energy and devotion to our afternoon plan.

"Sure, guys, but how we gunna get there?"

"I can find you!" Ray calls down the phone.

"Okay, well, here's my address..." Frank gives Ray the address of his house, the number of bikes there are outside his house, how many windows they have on the left side...

"Right, so... See you guys in 20? I need to change." Frank reveals.

"I can get there in 5. Come in your boxers, I'm sure Gerard would love that!" Ray chirps, almost singing the statement.

"Oi, Ray, you can-"

"See you in 10, go dress!" Ray shouts, grabbing the phone out of my hands and hanging up.

"Hey, you little-" I start, semi-angrily.

"No time to talk, Gee, let's go!" He says, tugging on the sleeve of my leather jacket before dragging me, once again, into his dark blue, well used car.

Have you ever been outdoors on a hot day in a leather jacket? It's fucking horrible. It's about 70 degrees out here, I swear.

We walk towards Frank's blue house door (a useful fact he told Ray during our communal phone conversation) after getting to number 69 la-di-dah street - it could be that, honestly, I can scarcely remember my own middle name- without trouble.

Before we knock, Frank flings the door open excitedly, looking ridiculously camp, and yells, so the whole street can hear and tell that he has friends, "HELLOOOOOOO!"

"Hey!" I say, stepping forward for a hug before changing my mind and recalling how the hug with Lindsey went, but Frank steps forward and brings me into an awkward bro-hug nevertheless.

"Hiya!" Frank says, gesturing toward Ray with his head: still latched onto me.

"Hi, Frank, I'm Ray, it's so nice to meet you!"

"Iron Maiden?" Frank asks incredulously, letting go of me and eyeing Ray up.

"Yes."

"Joy Division?" he looks back to me.

"Yes!"

"Cool, man, they're like one of my favourite- Wait a sec-" Frank darts back into the house, slamming the door quickly behind him.

In a matter of seconds he re-appears, proudly brandishing a band T-shirt to match ours.

"Phew, sorry about that, I felt like the odd one out…"

"Guys! Let's go!" Ray interrupts: not meaning to be rude, just being lively, crazy, psychic Ray.

"Yes!"

And we head to the car.

Okay, so the café isn't exactly first rate, but it isn't lousy at all. It's clean - immaculate, in fact- and cosy, if a little cluttered. Kind of like a charity shop. There's a huge mantel piece just overflowing with ornaments: china dogs, tape measures, wooden dolls, fake plastic trees...

I like it.

We're seated on the table closest to the window, getting prime service (we're the only people here). The menus are handwritten, which increases my respect for the place greatly - you can see the effort that Ray's sister (name yet unknown) has put into this business.

"So, what do you want?" Ray asks, not bothering to skim the menu himself. Knowing him, he's probably memorised it. Or perhaps his sister is psychic like him, and knows what he'll order already.

"Caramel Latte-" Frank and I start, before looking straight at each other and laughing. His laugh sends shivers down my spine.

I love it when he laughs.

"So... Uh... Yeah. Can you do it like that when my sister comes around?"

"Yes!" Frank shouts, flamboyantly and happily, while I muster up a small "Erm... Perhaps..."

Frank's eyebrows rise at my negativity and he flashes me a smile, revealing his perfect teeth and shaping his womanly lips.

"NATALIE!" Ray yells all of a sudden, tossing his head back and swinging on his chair.

Almost instantly a tall, brown-y blonde haired woman comes out from what I assume is the kitchen. As she makes her way over, I attempt to guess her age. I'd say about 21. Anyway, she's tall and busty: a little on the heavy side but that's a bonus – you can't trust a skinny chef, can you?

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat would you like?" she asks, smiling towards us, and reaching into her beige apron and retrieving a tiny brown notepad (with a tiny brown pencil!).

"Well, I'd like a- wait a second, you two go first: you gotta see this, Nat!" Ray says: once again enthusiastic.

Frank and I turn to face each other, giggling as we do so.

"Let's go!" he mouths.

" Caramel-"

"Caramel La-"

"Latte-"

"Latte- Caramel Latte!"

Okay, it wasn't the best, but we both begin laughing uncontrollably as a consequence.

"Yeah… Okay… And you, my itty bitty little brother…"

"You know what I want."

"Got it!" she smiles, tearing the page from her notebook and heading back into the kitchen.

As she leaves, Ray attempts small talk.

"So, did you hear about the party at Jasmine Sickle's house?"

"No…" Frank and I mutter quietly.

"Well, it's a jock hotspot. Believe me. Jasmine's my brother's friend – he's younger than me by a year- and she always throws these crazy-ass parties at this time of year.

Anyway, well, I got dragged there with Eric and all his dumb friends and there was more sportswear than I have literally ever seen in my life."

"Wow… Sportswear…" Frank whispers sarcastically.

Ray chuckles.

"Dirty details, please!" Frank teases.

"I don't know about dirty, but there was this nerdy guy – poor thing- getting all excited at his first party (I think he was actually in our year, Gee!) and he just went mad and had four vodka shots in five minutes."

Ray leaves an enigmatic silence in order to reel us in.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand?" I query.

"Puke. Everywhere."

Calls of "oooh!" erupt from the crowd of two people (Frank and I) and I sympathise.

"I think Mikey was there, actually. When was it?" I ask, the situation ringing a bell (Mikey tells me everything the morning after a party- on the condition that I provide him coffee).

"Last night. And who's Mikey?"

"My little brother. He's awkward."

Ray raises an eyebrow at me.

"Okay, he's cooler than me, all right!"

Frank and Ray snigger.

"I have to admit, I was invited to that party," Frank reveals tentatively.

"I'm impressed!" I wink.

"But, you know, my Friday nights are reserved for someone special."

Score! That was a direct flirt, right?

Flirt or not, I blush. Frank notices and throws a cheeky grin in my direction.

But what if he was just joking? What if he hates me and wants me to die so he can steal all my stuff and eat all the-

"I can feel it!"

"Feel what?" Frank raises his eyebrows, waiting for an innuendo.

"The chemistry!"

Ray waits for a response, or at least understanding, from his audience.

"Between you two!" he smiles.

A penny drops inside our minds and I blush even more. Frank squeezes my shoulder appreciatively.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, as it has been doing a lot today, and I rush to grab it and ease a little of the tension (sexual tension, may I say) in the conversation.

"Speak of the devil." I say, mouthing a small "sorry" to Ray and Frank and relocating to get a better signal on my magic, image capturing brick. I mean phone.

"Hello? Mikey? Are you okay?" I ask, my sense of worry creeping in.

Oh, God, what if he's gotten trapped in a bush again?

What if he's stuck in a helicopter 10 miles above me?

What if he's gotten some poor chick pregnant?

What if-

"I'm fine, Gerard." Mikey replies, as if it'd been obvious the whole time.

"Then why are you calling? Are you sure you're okay? No pregnancy? No helicopters? No getting trapped in a-"

"That was one time, Gerard!"

"Well, yes, but you didn't like it, did you! You kept kicking, and screaming… Remember? You actually-"

"Humana Humana Humana!" Mikey says, to stop me going into the details of his "bush problem".

That sounds dirty, doesn't it?

I hear Mikey sigh on the end of the line.

Damn my making-everything-awkward gene.

"Look, Gerard, it's nothing serious, it's just-"

"Oh, so you are in trouble?!" I look hurriedly back at Ray and Frank, just to check they're alright and that they won't be too bothered if I leave to un-trap my brother or something, but they're too deep in conversation to notice me.

"No, Gerard. No. N O. I'm not in trouble." Mikey stresses, sounding almost sarcastic.

"Is that some sort of signal? Are they holding you hostage, Mikey? I swear to God, I'll kill them. Are you at the house? Have you taken your-"

"NO, GERARD. I JUST WANTED TO ASK YOU A QUESTION."

"Okaaaay…" I say, nervously, as I have no useful advice. Unless you need advice on… er… Comics or Britpop.

"Can you please buy some Marmite while you're out?"

"Is that seriously it?"

"Yes."

"Okay, bye."

"No, no, don't go!" Mikey says hurriedly, "Will you?"

"Yeah. See you."

"Bye!"

I end the call and stuff my brick phone back into my pocket.

I resit myself into the comfy wooden chair next to Frank and smile at him. His response makes my heart melt: a simple, simple smile, but the biggest I've ever seen.

"So, what've you two been doing while I've been gone?" I ask suggestively, "From the looks of it, you've pleased Frank…"

"We were just talking, Gerard! I swear!" Frank puts his hands up in mock innocence.

Ray sniggers, and nods towards me, before getting up abruptly and announcing that he has to help his sister, and that –perhaps- she's trapped something in the coffee machine again: it's not usually "this" long.

It's nice outside. It's such a random thing, but it's true. Today's a great day. It's not dull, like I used to think the world was- it's colourful, and almost fragrant.

It feels like the future and the past have been crushed together into a ball that I'm tossing to the side, for the people I am with, and the feelings that I feel right now, are the only things that matter.

"Thinking?" Frank asks, his voice deep and serious, with a hint of curiosity.

He's tilting his head to the side like an excited puppy and I'm almost expecting him to balance a ball on his nose or clap his "flippers" together like a circus seal.

"Gerard…" Frank turns serious, " Is there… no, can I ask you a question?"

"Anything."

"There isn't anything going on between you and Ray, is there?"

"Oh! No way! No!"

"No 'friends with benefits'?" he asks, frowning a little as he does so, " I asked Ray, and he gave me a simple answer, but best to check, isn't it? I mean, what if-"

"No, Frankie, there's nothing going on. I'm not into 'friends with benefits'. I mean, either you're in a relationship or you're not…"

I can feel myself readying for a rant but I stop myself before I continue and bore the mind out of the guy I think I may one day marry, settle down, have adopted kids with, own 18 dogs with, share tea in the morning with before my job of being an artist and his of being a-

"Phew," he exaggerates, throwing his arm around my shoulders, "I thought I might've missed my chance…"

That line gets me. It hits me right in the nervous system and sends shocks of pleasure through every bone in my body and leaves me flustered. Chills! Excitement!

It's the way he whispers it in my ear…

And as he does it, his hot breath tickles me, and makes me melt even quicker.

I turn to face him.

Woah, that's close.

His face is looming so close that I bet if he blinks it'll rub against my skin. He's leaning forward in his chair so he's level with me, as he's usually a few inches smaller. His cheeks look so smooth I want to stroke them, to feel the coarse razor bumps, tiny, subtle craters and their mild pink hue beneath my fingers. His womanly lips look so fragile that all I want to do is stare, but so inviting that that urge is supressed by the strong temptation to kiss-

"No, Natalie, no!" I hear Ray shouting across the café, as Ray's sister places the beverages, as ordered, onto the table- bursting Frank and I out of our bubble.

"Natalie! They were just about to kiss!" he hisses, taking back his seat next to Frank angrily.

"Oh, God, guys, I'm so sorry: it was getting cold, and jeez, I'm so oblivious to my surroundings-" she begins, but I'm too elated to concentrate on her.

We almost kissed.

We almost kissed.

He wants me. He wants me!

Frank: the guy I met only just two weeks ago wants me. He doesn't care that my teeth are a little small, or that my eyebrows are bushy, or that I make everything awkward- he wants me!

If I had been in a molten, melted state before then this is volcanic.

Every pore, creek and crevice in my body is screaming out my animal instinct: kiss him! Do it! Do it now!

"- but anyway, here you go." She finishes, setting down a coaster and my caramel latte in front of me and whipping my out of my self-immersion.

I look gingerly down at my latte.

It looks nice, very nice, and sweet but nothing can be as sweet as finally getting to kiss him.

As Frank uncurls his arm from around my shoulder I vow to dive straight into the pool of 'kissing Frank' at the next diving board.


	11. Curse of the Killer Child-Swing

"Let's go to the park!" Exclaimed Ray as he practically burst from his seat. He threw a handful of coins onto the table and walked to the door, waiting eagerly for us to follow him. I emitted a small laugh as I got out of my seat and walked towards him, before turning back to look at Gerard. Our eyes locked and he made no effort to look away as he approached. Neither did I. As I've said before, I could get lost in Gerard's eyes.

Ray opened the door for us and we began to walk down the street surrounded by a comfortable silence. Gerard's eyes had broken contact with mine for less than five seconds before he blurted out. "My eyes feel pregnant!" He looked confused by his own words and made a deliberate effort not to look at either me or Ray.

"You know, I thought I'd gotten used to your…" I searched my brain for word that best described Gerard's…well, Gerard. Individuality? No, that sounded like a thinly veiled insult. Eccentricities? Yes. Gerard was eccentric, no doubt about it. "…Your eccentricities." The word fitted perfectly. "But it just gets better, doesn't it?" I smiled demurely at Gerard after my statement.

A familiar blush I've become acquainted with rose to his cheeks yet again, and he stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. You can tell a lot about a person's mood, reactions, and themselves in general from their hands. Probably why he subconsciously hid his. He doesn't want me to see his reaction, which is more than likely slight embarrassment. Or maybe something else, I'm not sure.

I distract myself from trying to analyse Gerard's mannerisms by speaking To Ray. "So Ray, where exactly are we going?" I asked, facing him. Suddenly, he stopped facing towards us, arms outstretched in a 'You-shall-not-pass' fashion.

"The park!" He exclaimed just like before, as if it were completely obvious. I was sort of expecting something a little more specific, but I went along with it anyways.

"The park?" I asked acting shocked. "The park?!" I repeated, louder this time. "Shock! Horror! Swings!" I exclaimed, pressing my hands too my cheeks.

"Yeah!" Ray grinned happily. "On we go. Quick march!" He grabbed our wrists and began to pull us towards his fabled and beloved park. He was practically stomping too!

Gerard turned to me, smiling. " Well isn't this form of transport novel!" I could see a mischievous glint in his eye as he spoke.

"Yes Jeeves!" I said, throwing a British accent in there for good measure. "We have no need for the horse and carriage!" I raised my eyebrows while grinning.

He looked at me in slight awe. "How do you manage a proper posh British accent? I always end up sounding like a cowboy asshole."

"Well, that is my favourite type of asshole…" I winked cheekily at Gerard, knowing full well just what sort of reaction I'll have on him. He looked like he was about to squeal and he began hyperventilating a little due to 'shock'. I just raised my eyebrows yet again. I'm pretty sure I use my eyebrows to show gestures, instead of my hands like most people do. Or maybe I just raise them whenever Gerard does something cute. Which is a hell of a lot of the time.

Ray looked over his shoulder at us, disgruntled. "What do you guys eat?! Seriously!" He rolled his eyes as he whined. Gerard brushed the comment off as if he never heard it, but I looked to the floor to hide my vibrant blushing cheeks.

"I, uh…Vegetarian. Weigh Less. Or I should do. Or something." I mumbled almost inaudibly. I hate my weight, and now I felt guilty for Ray since he had to pull Gerard as well as a chubby little guitar player to a kids park.

No rest for the wicked it seems.

"Oooh, almost there!" Ray cheered and pointed to the park. It was sort of small ; Just a line of swings, a slide, a seesaw, monkey bars and a large patch of grass in the centre. Pretty awesome to be honest. Then again, anything with swings is awesome. I seriously, seriously love swings.

"Gah, Let's skip!" Gerard cried suddenly, grabbing my wrist. He looked like he had been vehemently trying to suppress the urge to do that. I looked at him, observing the pure excitement etched onto his face; He was adorable.

"Let's go Ray!" I shouted to him over my shoulder before breaking into a skipping gait. "We're skipping! Woo!"

As we breezed through the park I could hear one seriously heavy-footed Ray running behind us. I'm surprised I've never noticed just how loud his steps are before. Probably because he's never ran after me, which is good because I'm not too keen on heavy-footed people chasing me.

He finally caught up, before stopping and bending over slightly, resting both hands on his knees. "You-" He had to pause to regain his breath. "You two are perfectly insane."

We were sat on the large circle of grass in the centre of the park, Gerard in the middle and me and Ray either side of him. I could hear Gerard rustling beside us, deciding to move every other minute. I'm usually deathly still when I'm lying anywhere that isn't a bed, no idea why. After a couple minutes it sounded like Gerard had settled, and I felt the unmistakable prickle of someone's eyes trained on my face. I could just feel that Gerard was looking at me. It was weird because I could see him from the very corner of my peripheral vision, and I started to blush a little because Gerard's stare was so… well, as if he were completely enamoured. But I'm not someone to be enamoured with. I'm small and hyper and a little insane and I've got seven times as many insecurities as the average teen. I'm not what someone should want. I'm no good at relationships. I've got more miserably unsuccessful romances than you could shake a proverbial stick at, which obviously means I'm not cut out for it. I try, I try _so_ hard to be something somebody wants. I want to be the something Gerard wants. So much.

I don't know what convinced me to do it, but I brushed my hand against Gerard's, asking for silent permission to hold his. He relaxes his fingers and I place mine within the spaces and clutch borderline desperately, interlocking our hands. I'm focusing on my breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Don't freak out. Exhale. You've got a chance. Inhale. _You're holding his hand._ Aaaand Exhale.

"Frank, if my lubricated hand is making you feel uncomfortable you can let go you know." Gerard flustered. I hadn't even noticed he was sweating. I probably am too. Bucket loads.

" I wouldn't let go for the world." I whispered as I placed my other hand on his cheek. He's so beautiful. So…I'm not even sure there is a word to describe how perfect he is. His face is exquisite, perfectly proportioned. He looks so innocent. Sometimes he acts innocent, naïve, too. I mean, who describes their sweaty palm as being 'Lubricated'?! But he's got this air about him that makes him seem almost…otherworldly, I suppose. He's so sophisticated, so mature at the same time as being innocent. You can tell he's clever. A genius even. Not a textbook, school-curriculum genius though. A real genius. A creative genius. The sort who sees the hidden things, the inferences and every single little detail. The sort who can make something from nothing. The one who conquers their fears with thought and willpower alone.

Speaking of fears…

"Unless it was full of spiders." I shuddered at the mention of those creepy-ass _things._

"What?" His brow furrowed in confusion.

"That's the only situation I wouldn't hold your hand in…"

"What if I was holding an animal carcass, or the severed head of my brother? Or if Ray was naked and I was-" I decided to stop him before his imagination took him too far. It was almost as if you could see the cogs whirring behind his eyes, churning out a handful of new scenarios every second.

I sat up and batted Gerard with my hand. "Gee dear, don't fret."

"Oi!" He yelled, trying to look angry but failing. I looked up and caught sight of the swings. I really freaking love swings.

"Let's go on the swings! Let's go on the swings!" I shouted, practically jumping out of my skin.

Both Ray and Gerard leapt up with me, and we all sprinted towards the swings. I'm the fastest, probably due to my oh-so-aerodynamic height. How about that, Ray? I may be heavy, but I can run faster than you and your fro which is practically pushing you backwards it's so un-aerodynamic!

I heard a 'Damn you guys!' as I sprang onto the far swing and as I looked over to Gerard I saw he had only just arrived at the designated swinging area. I built up my swing height as much as I could while watching Gerard regard the children's swing we ever-so-generously left for him. He lifted his legs in cautiously, trying to take his time. Then it all went to hell. I could tell he was barely supressing a yelp, and I'm not even going to try and explain the position he's in because up until now I didn't realise the human body could contort into shapes like that.

He shot me a pained look and I knew it was time for me to become a hero.

Now is not the time for clichés, Frank. Your infatuation is stuck in a child's swing.

"Jesus, Gerard, come here." Although I realised that sounded stupid because that's the whole core of the problem here; he's stuck and can't move. I leapt out of my swing full height, feeling the familiar small adrenaline rush as the soles of my feet hit the ground. "You're a moron!" I joked as I wrapped my arms around him, trying to tug him up, unsuccessfully, might I add.

You're good at this, Frank.

"AH! Frank! What are you even doing?!"

"We'll swap, you little cutie pie!" I giggled as I tapped his nose playfully. Not much he can do about it, anyways. "Lift your legs!" I yelled as I pulled his arms up, not entirely sure what I was hoping to achieve.

"I'm trying!" He insisted breathlessly. "But they're still in the little holes!"

I smirked. It's inevitable, really.

"Not the first holes you've-"

"Frank don't you dare even think of making an innuendo of the situation." He pouted. Suddenly, as if something monumental had happened, his face changed to a look of shock and anticipation. "I think I'm doing it! It's working, I am-!"

I was just about to make my second joke of the moment when suddenly my back was against the gravely tar mac on the floor, and my front was against Gerard, who had very recently escaped from the hellhole(s) that was a baby swing.

"Free." Gerard whispered but only barely, looking into my eyes. Those hazel eyes that make me forget every other thing in the world. His eyes got further away and I noticed he'd shuffled himself into a precarious position. I frowned inwardly. I didn't want him to move away. Ever.

He smiled dreamily, before leaning in and kissing me softly on the cheek. His lips are smooth and feel softer than a feather. I could relive that moment over and over, forever. I probably will do in my mind.

"Thank you for saving me." He smiled before biting his lip. It's weird, it's really weird, but I feel like me and Gerard are connected now. There's no more hazy, confusing fog. We both know exactly what path we want to follow. It's magical, almost.

I smiled and I didn't stop smiling for a long while, although I did contain myself and stop the full-on beaming grin. I put an arm around Gerard and pulled him close to me. Gerard closed his eyes and you can tell he's thinking, hard. Like he's completely absorbed.

A giggle escaped from my lips. "Gerard." Another giggle. "Oh, God, you're so cute." He looked up slightly and smiled before putting his head back down and snuggling into my chest. I want to tell him everything, and I want him to tell me even more. Where he grew up. What his childhood was like. His elementary school. Growing up with a brother. His favourite food. What he likes to draw. And I want to tell him everything about him that I know he doesn't believe, all the things I like. Like how he's incredibly dorky, but how it's so cute. I like his eyes. I like how he bites his nails when he's nervous. I like how he takes his sketchpad pretty much everywhere. I like how he doesn't give up. I like how family-orientated he is. I like how awkward he is. I like everything.

"I like you, Gerard." I said as we both sat up again. I hadn't meant to say it, and I should probably have expanded or explained, but I just left it hanging there in the atmosphere. I just smiled. There's not much explanation I can give, because it's true.

"I like you too, Frank." He crossed his legs and took my hand, holding it carefully and lovingly.

I'm not sure how long we sat there for, content with each other's company. Probably not long. Not long enough. Never long enough.

But, as everyone is sadly aware, all good things must come to an end. This good thing was abruptly apprehended by my phone's stupid shrill text message tone.

"It's my mom." I sighed after cursing. "She wants me home."

Gerard just nodded. I guess he didn't want me to go. Believe me, I would have murdered just in order to say here with him, but I guessed that ultimatum wouldn't arrive anytime soon. I suppose Ray needs a little bro time with Gerard too. As much as I'd like to, I can't have him all the time.

I grabbed his hand and pulled him up. Once we were both standing I pulled him into a close hug, holding him tight. I was stood on my tiptoes too, just so I could whisper my preposition to him.

"So tomorrow, do you fancy showing me round this place or what?" Gerard just sort of squealed into my neck and I felt the vibrations against my skin. "Well I look forward to it." I said as I looked into his perfect hazel eyes that were brighter than ever, something I didn't think was possible. I released him from the hug and he obviously wasn't prepared for unassisted standing, as he overbalanced and fell onto the floor. He looked down in disbelief before beginning to laugh hysterically. I chuckled too: It's lovely to know he can laugh at himself. As I walked over to Ray to beg for a life, I shouted my own goodbye to Gerard.

"You're the biggest loser I've ever dated, Gerard!"

I'm glad he's a loser. I'm a loser too. We're both strange and a little insane, but that's good. Perfect even. Because it suits him so well. Cool wouldn't suit him. I don't want him to ever be cool. I'd rather we stayed uncool, together, for a very long time.


	12. Curse of the Killer Child-Swing 2

It doesn't take long for us to finish our lattes and for Ray to consume his mysterious beverage.

"Let's go to the park!" Ray beams, placing his mug on the wooden table and standing up. He tosses a handful of coins on the table and yawns. Frank and I place our cups down and stand up in unison. We giggle and turn to each other; his eyes lingering on mine for a little longer than they should.

Fuck.

I think our eyes just made babies.

"My eyes feel pregnant!" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

Frank and Ray turn to me with incredulous looks as we stroll along the sidewalk.

"You know, I thought I'd gotten used to your… eccentricities… But it just gets better, doesn't it?" Frank states, smiling sweetly in my direction.

Self-consciously I blush, and shove my hands deep into my pockets.

My heart skips a beat.

I want to leap in front of him, pull him into a deep hug and confess my love to him. I want to look deep into his hazel-green eyes and say everything. Everything.

"So, Ray," asks Frank, facing Ray intently, "Where exactly are we going?"

Ray turns dramatically and stops before us, stretching his arms wide and grinning like the Cheshire cat on cocaine, and says flamboyantly: "The park!"

I almost expect him to grab a cane and a top hat off a stranger and start jazz dancing.

'Dance, Ray, dance!'

He's waiting patiently for an adequate reaction (probably like "woah, the park!?" or "strip me naked and call me Moses, we're going to the park!") and it's becoming increasingly obvious that he is not receiving my mental messages.

I stare at Frank: both burdening him with the responsibility of a satisfying reaction to the revelation of going to the PARK and admiring him as my heart stealer.

Yes, that's him. Frank: the heart stealer.

With his nervous stutter, his charisma, his womanly lips, his perfect face and every single one of his quirks and traits, he's stolen my heart.

But it's okay: I'd give my heart up – willingly- for him, any day.

"Oh, my! The park!" Frank exaggerates, slapping his hands to his cheeks in mock shock. "Shock! Horror!"

"Yeah," Ray says: nodding his head and raising his eyebrow happily, "Quick march!"

Ray grabs our wrists and literally starts to drag us in, I hope, the direction of the beloved park.

His grip is soft, but he's pulling with a surprising amount of force: this park better be something special.

I smile at Frank, "Well, isn't this form of transport novel?"

"Yes, Jeeves! We have no need for the horse and carriage!" he replies, raising his perfect brows (seriously, where does he get those things done?) and speaking in a mock British accent.

"How do you manage to do a proper posh British accent? I always end up sounding like a cowboy asshole…"

"Well," he flirts, "that is my favourite type of asshole…"

He winks. Oh gosh, he winks. My body has a strong reaction to this. I can feel it right now: shivers erupting in ripples down my spine causing my breath to quicken.

Frank notices, and once again his eyebrows are raising. I know I say this an awful lot, but God, those eyebrows.

Ray's pace is slowing: telling me that we're nearly there.

"What do you guys eat?" Ray asks, slightly patronisingly, as he turns to face us with an "How could you eat so much in your childhood, you piggies, obviously you knew I'd be pulling you down a lonely road on a warm summers day, ja?" kind of expression.

I feel guilty for being such a heavy weight on Ray, but I chuckle as Frank mutters some excuse about not being the heaviest because he doesn't eat meat and I brush off the comment as nothing.

"Oooh, we're nearly there!" Ray cheers as trees and grass come into view (which makes a difference to the drab, crime-ridden streets of this state).

I grin at Frank, and begin to feel the overwhelming urge to grab his hand and run into the park: the height of innocence in a state full of false maturity.

It's right there, next to my leg: his small, tough fingers curled inward slightly in a loose fist. The smooth, slightly tanned skin is radiating under the mid-day sun – enticing me to lay my bulky, coarse hands into his until I can't take it anymore.

"Gaahh," I cry, grabbing onto his wrist, "Let's skip!"

Frank turns his head unhurriedly towards me, giving me puzzled look.

Oh, God, I should let go, shouldn't I? But damn, his skin feels so good under my own. It's smooth, velvety, and the heat almost sizzles under my cool touch…

"Let's go! Ray, we're skipping! Yeah, man!" Frank yells merrily, and we do.

The light breeze brushes through my long hair, tickling my ears as we skip towards the small, rustic, wooden gate and feel the nostalgia that comes with going to pure, once enjoyable localities. Ray jogs behind us, and I can hear him breathing heavily as he approaches.

"You two are-" he pauses to catch his breath, "-perfectly insane."

The park is empty, but not free of hope.

It sounds crazy, but it's almost like you can (even though the park is empty) feel the spirits of those who've embraced the naïve joys of their childhood in this very park. It's like, as I stare at the swings, I can picture translucent illustrations of young girls and boys swinging their legs, aiming high as if life depended on it: unaware of the metaphor they'd one day create with their devotion to such a juvenile purpose.

We lie down on the grass and stare up at the sky. I take the middle position, with Ray to my right and Frank to my left, and gaze up at the pale blue sheath above us. There's not even a hint of rain today. I always get a feeling for when it's about to rain. It's never when the sky is concentrated grey, it's only when the sky's that sickly blend of pale grey and piercing white that you can tell it's definitely going to rain.

You'll thank me for that fact, one day.

But anyway, there's no chance of rain today. The sky is as perfect as it'll ever be- not cloudless, but realistic. Like… Take Frank for example. He's perfect, but he'll have bad points. It's hard to imagine, now or ever, that he does, or will have, but somewhere, there'll be something. And that one dodgy trait- that's what makes him beautiful.

Maybe it's that he gets a little too enthusiastic? Maybe, secretly, deep down, he's scared. But I doubt it. It's something trivial, I'm sure, like the enthusiasm thing, but that's okay: it's fine to believe in something a little too much, as long as it stays real to you.

I turn to face Ray, projecting towards him a vibrant smile as a form of non-verbal thanks for the day we're having, and to no surprise, he nods in understanding of my gesture.

Finally, coming out of my daydream and contemplative state, I enter a sort of meditation as I manoeuvre myself to stare at the profile of Frank's face.

It hadn't occurred to me, until now, that I hadn't been seeing Frank's face this whole time. I'd been looking, but not seeing. As cheesy as it sounds, it's true.

I'd studied his face, like in the café, but I only saw its features. I didn't see the meaning behind them: I didn't solve the enigma of his smile, the way his eyes moved or the puzzle in a simple raise of an eyebrow.

So I look closer.

His nose peaks perfectly at the tip, giving him a flawless profile. His lips bulge out slightly, as most lips do, compared to his dainty chin, and, as his eyes are closed, his eyelashes rest over the soft skin below his eyes. His forehead has not even a trace of teenage acne, and his hairline curves effortlessly around the delicate bone structure of his face.

It's now, just now, that I realise that Frank is an enigma, a mystery, but not one I can solve. At least, not alone. Frank is always going to be the key to translation his deepest encryptions, and without his blessing, I cannot unravel and read the scrolls of his heart, without him I cannot disentangle the fibres of his mind, nor can I sooth the whimpers of his soul.

If I want to solve Frank, he's going to have to let me in. Open the doors, unlock the safe and unload the baggage that's weighing him down.

But it's okay, baggage needs to go somewhere for a smile, and it's baggage I'm willing to carry.

I relax, pushing my bodyweight into the ground, and I feel invincible.

You know, that typical teenage feeling of "nothing can ever hurt me. Not here, not now, not ever"? It's that one, and I'm feeling it right now.

Something's brushing against my hand: but what?!I am gripped again by my paranoia- what if it's a poisonous snake? Or a vicious dog? Or a rabid rabbit?

I open my eyes to check, my mind reeling with terrible possibilities, to find that it's nothing scary, or terrible… it is Frank's hand.

Oh, my, eeep, we're taking that first step, aren't we?

I loosen my fingers and let Frank slide his hand into mine.

We're doing it, wow, this day has come, and we're doing this.

There's no better feeling in the world (that I've experienced. Yet) than finally getting close to someone you once thought was so far away.

Oh, shit, my hands are sweating.

Is that normal?

Are they supposed to sweat?

Oh, God, oh God, is my un-necessarily lubricated hand making Frank uncomfortable?

"Ah, Frank, if my lubricated hand is making you uncomfortable then you can, ah, let go," I offer whole-heartedly.

"I wouldn't let it go for the world…" Frank whispers, placing his free hand on my cheek and turning my face to face him full on.

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

(I don't even have a watch, but I want to help you feel the silence)

We stare, and we're still staring. Not making a move, not leaning in, just staring – studying.

My eyes move straight to his hazel ones, and I observe the colours. Have you ever seen an eye this close up? It's like it's been crafted out of every shade of green and brown that you could ever find, and-

"Unless it was full of spiders," Frank mumbles.

Wait, what are we talking about, again?

"Huh?"

"That's the only situation I wouldn't hold your hand in…"

"What if I was holding an animal carcass, or the severed head of my brother? Or if Ray was naked and I was –"

"Gee. Don't fret, dear," Says Frank, sitting up, letting me go and batting me with the back of his hand.

"Oi!" I yell playfully, tickling his slim waist.

"Hey," Frank says, bouncing enthusiastically above me, "Let's go on the swings!"

Spurred suddenly into liveliness, Ray and I leap up, racing towards the swings.

I'm trying as hard as I can, honestly, but I'm simply not a sporting person. Ray and Frank speed ahead, leaving me trailing behind.

"Damn you guys!" I laugh, sprinting (well, as close to sprinting as I can get) the distance between me and the swings.

The swings are neatly in a row of three: two full sized and one for toddlers, and guess which one they've left me: the baby swing.

Frank springs elegantly into the swing, kicking his legs high to reach surprisingly far off the ground, whilst Ray slowly eases himself into the swing with caution.

So, my turn now, I guess…

I lift my legs high over the back of the swing, aiming to slot them through the holes meant for the legs of the younger generations.

Fuck, ow.

I don't think these swings are intended for the legs of a bordering-on-overweight seventeen year old- damn, this is uncomfortable. I shoot Frank a pained look as I crouch in the constricted swing.

He's looking straight at me. With his gorgeous hazel eyes. Oh fuck.

I can feel my breath quickening; I'm unsure, however, whether it's thanks to his irresistible eyes or the fact that I've stuffed myself into a fucking toddler's swing.

"Gerard, damn you, come here," Frank says, leaping out of the swing on his way to nursing me out, "You moron!"

Frank's laughing, but his eyes are surprisingly serious.

He wraps his short arms around me (and mmmm, it feels good) in an attempt to help me out.

"Gah! Frank! What are you even- Ooomph!" he clutches at my sides, pulling me up abruptly. Or at least, he tries to do so, but succeeds only in leaving odd little dints on my stomach.

"We'll swap, you little cutie pie!" he offers, tugging on my cheek like an old Aunt.

I glance over to check what Ray's doing while we struggle, and he's just… there. Although it's a bit like he isn't there at all; his eyes are closed – not tightly, like he's trying too hard, but loosely, his legs are swinging slowly and his hair is elegant in the mild breeze on this warm day.

"Lift your legs!" Frank yells, staring at me and my odd "teenager-in-toddler-swing" posture for a few seconds, before stepping forward to somewhat pointlessly tug my arms up with all of his might (and I've got to say, for a fairly short guy, he's pretty strong).

"I'm trying," I admit breathlessly, "But they're still in the little holes!"

"Not the first holes you've-"

"Don't you dare make an innuendo of the situation," I demand playfully, and I feel myself finally coming loose from the fir, grip of the swing, "I think I'm- I'm doing it! It's working, I am-"

Before I can complete the sentence, I feel the soft, warm cushion of a body underneath me, propping my body up and preventing me form grazing my knees on the coarse, rubbery ground.

"… Free." I finish, looking straight into Frank's hazel eyes. As I do so, I almost melt entirely… again.

I press up, my hands staying sturdy next to Frank's shoulders, while digging into the ground with my feet. It's uncomfortable, but it's necessary for what I am about to do.

I smile, relishing in the perfect little five second moment before I dive right in.

"Thank you for saving me," I declare, planting a soft kiss onto Frank's cheek, like he'd done after our apologies. I bite my lip as I pull away from the childish display of affection. Only, it doesn't feel childish; it means the world to me, and I can just hope that it means the world to Frank, too. This little kiss was not a way to win Frank's heart, money, friendship, nor was it to make a scene or play with irony; this kiss was planted to show that I care and that I, finally, am ready to take the chance.

And it looks like he understood.

Frank is smiling down at me (I've landed quite low on his body), and as the discarded, stretched toddler swing sways above us, he pulls me close- into his chest and out of my precarious position.

I close my eyes in wonder, not for the first time today, and think. This one accidental moment, caused by my clumsiness and inability to run has ended up meaning so much. I hear Frank's gorgeous giggle from below me, but I don't open my eyes just yet. I stay still, absorbed in the moment.

"Gerard," Frank giggles as I open my eyes, "Oh, gosh, you're so cute."

I look directly up at Frank's face as I sit up. His hazel eyes are shining, no sparkling, his lips curved into an eager smile and his beautiful eyebrows arched with happiness. I want to lean down again, face to face with him, and kiss his lips passionately until mine are dried out, but I'm not going to ruin this moment with physical intimacy- it means too much. This moment here, now, is about emotional intimacy… The way we are sharing a comfortable silence, physical closeness and a beautiful moment without igniting a carnal spark and letting the moment burn out too soon. It's all I've ever wanted – he's all I've ever wanted, and all I'll ever want.

I feel like crying with joy, but I lean down and snuggle into his chest instead. He's warm, so warm, and though I can't see his face, I can almost feel his smile penetrating me, causing me to smile in the knowledge of his pleasure.

"I like you, Gerard," Frank says, pulling me softly up to face him again as we sit next to the now static toddlers' swing. I expect Frank to expand on his statement but no explanation comes, just a smile as contented as the one before.

"I like you too, Frank," I reply, crossing my legs and taking his hand in my own for the second time today.

Frank looks to Ray who's still in his own little world, maybe a better world, maybe a worse one, apparently unaware of his surroundings. Knowing him, though, he's probably fully aware of the situation between Frank and I, and is thus staying out of it to avoid another "Natalie moment". He looks beautiful, Ray does. His eyes are shut delicately and his legs are swinging gracefully in the mild breeze. His hair shines in the sun; he looks utterly relaxed, whatever the world he occupies as me and Frank strengthen our relationship with silent affection.

"Crap!" Frank says as a loud, repetitive tone emanates from his pocket. He squeezes my hands lovingly before letting them fall and checking his pockets for the shrieking device.

"It's my mom," he sighs, "She wants me home."

I nod, giving him a speechless approval of his plans. Bringing my hands together, I pick at my fingers awkwardly; I don't want this perfect day to end, but I know that making a scene will destroy my chances with Frank, and his feelings mean more to me than my compulsive need to make all good things last .

He grabs my hand and tugs me upright, pulling me into a close hug. I feel his breath, hot soothing in my ear as he stands on a tiptoe to whisper to me.

"So, tomorrow," he whispers slightly sensually, "Do you fancy showing me round this place or what?"

My heart is skipping so many beats, my head begins to throb and I feel like sweat could pour from every pore in my body. Frank has asked me out on a date. Frank, the perfect little flirt, the little heart stealer… has asked me out. Too elated to talk, I let out a "hnng" noise into his neck as I prevent myself from jumping and squealing over his (obviously accepted) offer.

"Well," he says as he pulls away, looking into my joy-clouded eyes with his sparkling, hope-filled ones, "I look forward to it."

Frank then lets me abruptly go, and I wobble with the lack of support. My feet quaver as I try to steady myself but, overcome with excitement, I fall down onto the safe, soft, child friendly ground.

I laugh hard at my failure, and I hear Frank's amused chuckle join mine as I remain collapsed on the floor. I like the feeling of the floor right now, even knowing I've embarrassed myself, as the mild pain from falling on my stomach is reminding me that this is real. This is now. I am Frank's, and (though I don't like the constricting term) Frank is mine.

"You're the biggest loser I've ever dated, Gerard!" Frank cheers as a goodbye, running over to Ray and asking kindly for a lift home before becoming engrossed in small talk.

I begin to walk away, watching Frank and Ray and smiling. Everything happened perfectly today, and I finally realise the truth about it: today was one big chance- one big chance to get to know my first real friends, to get intimate with Frank and to finally enjoy my pathetic life.

My grin widens as my mind revels in the understanding that today really was one big chance, and one big chance I was brave enough to take.


End file.
